


Muted Pleasure

by Lovespie (Snarryeyes)



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Public Sex, Secret Relationship, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:44:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3204674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarryeyes/pseuds/Lovespie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Pinto Kink Meme prompt: While out at a boring movie/transatlantic flight/awards show, Zach and Chris's heavy petting goes REALLY heavy, and before you know it, someone's getting fingered and coming like a garden hose. Now, all this person can think about is having more sex in public like that - the potential to get caught is just too thrilling. Does he act on it? Do they get caught? By who? Does it go public? That as well as which one's got a new kink is up to you.</p>
<p>ETA: While I originally started writing this prompt fic as a PWP, it has since developed into a much deeper and more meaningful story. The original summary doesn't really do it justice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Purely a work of my imagination. Unfortunately.

It starts by accident, or rather by a set of circumstances coalescing to form the perfect opportunity. The stage is a movie theater—more precisely the back of one, where darkness can cover a multitude of sins—and the trigger, possibly the worst action movie in a decade. A dire plot, and even worse dialogue. 

Having a bit of a penchant for bad action movies, Chris isn’t all that bothered. He continues to munch his way through a bag of popcorn with a stupid grin plastered on his face. But Zach is bored, which means that his attention moves from the screen to the only interesting thing in his vicinity. 

Chris.

At first, Chris is quite successful at watching the movie while simultaneously enjoying Zach’s lips on his neck. Then, apparently not satisfied with Chris’ limited attention, Zach ups his game. He bites down on the soft curve between neck and shoulder.

Chris gasps, spilling popcorn. It tumbles onto his lap and out of sight. “Zach, what the hell—“

“Shhh.” Zach carefully licks the spot, feeling Chris’ body tremor traitorously in response. “Mmm, you taste good.”

“Zach,” Chris says again, this time barely a murmur. He isn’t entirely sure if it is meant to warn Zach off or encourage him to continue. Although the theater isn’t packed, it is by no means private either. There are several people a couple of rows in front of them, only a few meters away. 

It had been Zach’s idea to see a movie. They are midway through their week off together—brought about by a blessed convergence of schedules—and have spent most of their time so far inside Zach’s New York apartment—more specifically, his bed. But today Zach had suggested a cute little movie theater he knew, and had been almost entirely convincing of their need to do something different. Now Chris can’t help but wonder if this has been his plan all along.

Chris tightens his grip on the popcorn and attempts to refocus on the movie, but his body has other ideas. Every fiber of his being, every sense, every nerve ending is fixed on Zach’s tongue travelling across his skin, on the tug and scratch of stubble meeting stubble. The images on the screen—a cliché-ridden high speed car chase and shoot-out extravaganza—flicker across his face unseen. When Zach mouths slowly along his jaw line, Chris gives in and tilts his head down, catching Zach’s lips, ruthlessly kissing his victorious grin away.

But if he’d thought that several minutes of oral exploration would satisfy Zach for a while, he was wrong. It only encourages him. The moment Chris’ gaze returns to the screen, Zach’s hand finds its way to Chris’ crotch and squeezes.

Even as Chris clenches his jaw, sealing his hiss behind pressed lips, the bruised and bloodied hero onscreen proclaims, “You won’t win this fight,” and Chris is inclined to think he’s right. One part of his body has already given up completely, arching up to meet Zach’s hand like a cat, hungry for attention. And when Zach unzips Chris’ pants and slips his hand inside to grip his cock properly, it’s game over.

With a tiny—almost silent—whine, Chris abandons his popcorn, and the movie, shifting down in his seat to allow Zach easier access. Of course, Zach now has smug written across his face, but Chris can’t bring himself to care all that much, not when Zach’s fingers are deftly stroking and tugging him towards his second orgasm of the day.

“Like that, baby?” Zach whispers against his ear, his smirk all too evident.

“Nnngh.” Okay, it wasn’t the most coherent response. “Zach—“

“Shhh.” Zach kisses any further words away. “You have to be quiet. Can you do that?”

“Uh… uh-huh.” He doesn’t sound all that convincing, but Zach continues nevertheless. 

Chris’ gaze swings to the people some rows in front of them, who seem none the wiser. Yet. But Chris is finding it increasingly difficult to stay quiet. In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s going to pull every muscle in his face trying to keep everything in. In desperation, he turns to Zach, grabs a handful of his shirt, and smashes their mouths together, figuring he can let go in the safety of Zach’s mouth. It doesn’t go entirely as planned, though, as Zach groans instead, causing Chris to softly echo it.

The knowledge that they’re in public, that at any minute someone could turn round and catch them at it, is playing havoc with Chris’ control. He knows they’re playing with fire, but he can’t help but be drawn to the heat. At this point, the sensible part of his brain duly begins to list possible repercussions—even if by some miracle they’re not caught, they have to make it back to Zach’s apartment in what is bound to be a less than respectable state without being snapped by some enterprising fan or journalist. 

But this train of thought—and any other—is brought screeching to a halt when he feels one of Zach’s fingers lightly circle his entrance, his other hand now working Chris’ shaft. Yeah, he’s going to lose this fight pretty fucking quickly. He tears his mouth away from Zach’s, needing to breathe, doing his best to grapple for some modicum of control. A task made almost impossible when Zach immediately switches his oral attention to Chris’ dick, simultaneously slipping one finger into his ass, which is still loose from their earlier sex session.

“Fuu—“ 

One silhouetted head in front turns slightly in their direction, and Chris has just enough brain capacity left to quickly turn his exclamation into a throaty cough. As Zach works him closer and closer, Chris keeps his eyes trained on the back of that head, an anchor to reality, a reminder of the danger, but also an incredible turn on.

Chris’ hands grip the armrests forcefully, his breathing ragged and uneven. He has no fucking clue what’s happening in the movie, and he doesn’t care much past praying that it’s not about to end. He imagines the credits rolling and the lights going up, Zach swallowing his dick for all to see. This particular thought, coupled with the pads of Zach’s fingers hitting bullseye, has him coming like a fucking freight train down Zach’s throat, a stream of words and sounds dammed behind clenched teeth and tightly pressed lips. Through the haze of intense pleasure and relief, there’s a definite tinge of pride that only a deep, unsteady breath escaped his lungs.

“So hot,” Zach murmurs, returning his mouth to Chris’ to share the taste, and Chris can only agree. But before he can even think of returning the favor, the movie comes to its own end.

They manage to make themselves presentable before the lights come up, but only barely. Staying in his seat, head down, Chris tries to stifle the laughter that bubbles up from nowhere while the other patrons file out. And it takes Zach several minutes to will his erection away.

“At least enough until we get somewhere a little more private,” he says, dark eyes shining with promise.

But suddenly all Chris can think about is doing this again in public, of reliving the quite addictive combination of fear and thrill. He does, in all fairness, have a duty to settle the score.


	2. Chapter 2

The seed planted in his brain, Chris is hard pressed to think of anything else on the way back to Zach’s apartment, so distracted that he barely hears a word of what Zach is saying. Then when they reach it, and Zach swoops in to press him back against the door, Chris closes his eyes and imagines they’re back in the theater. In a flash, he’s hard again, groaning against Zach’s mouth. Zach, for his part, seems equally enthusiastic, although that probably has more to do with the pent-up frustration of not yet finding release. 

But, whatever. Chris is more than happy to go with it. In fact, for once, he actively takes the lead, pushing Zach backwards towards the master bedroom, already working on removing his shirt. Zach growls his approval. Staying in control, Chris ends up bottoming from the top, riding Zach slowly and surely, prolonging the pleasure—the build—for as long as possible. But Zach’s patience only last so long before he’s snapping his hips up greedily.

As Chris feels everything start to shift, to draw up to its inevitable conclusion, he squeezes his eyes shut and sees people all around. Any second they’re going to turn… going to see them… 

Zach chooses that moment to wrap his cool fingers around Chris’ dick, and instantly it’s game over. Chris comes hard—harder than he should for what is now his third orgasm of the day—a string of curses flying from his lips before he’s dragged down into the messy, teeth clashing kind of kiss that comes mid-coitus. Zach uses the new position to his advantage, driving into Chris with abandon until he slams in balls-deep and finally finds release with a drawn-out groan of satisfaction.

“Fucking hell, Chris,” Zach breathes, curling his arms tighter around Chris’ waist.

Chris relaxes into Zach’s embrace and his lips are captured again, more softly this time, a deeper emotion conveyed. 

“I love you,” Zach sighs softly against his lips. “So much. So much, Chris.”

Chris can’t help but smile. He rests their foreheads together, thumb brushing Zach’s cheek in a gentle caress. “I love you back.” 

He’s all but wiped out for the night now, but his body is still humming with residual pleasure. As he settles, half-sprawled across Zach, their bodies cooling and breathing evening out, his thoughts shift towards new plans. New thrills. Tomorrow is a new day. He buries his slow grin in Zach’s neck.

***

Central Park in the early morning is almost exclusively the domain of dog walkers and joggers. Having convinced Zach of his need for a run—and it had taken some convincing [“It’s too early! Seriously, man, didn’t we exercise enough yesterday?”]—Chris is enjoying the crisp air and morning sunshine. He’s also on the look-out for something, his gaze scanning the surrounding area as he jogs beside Zach. When he thinks he might have found what he’s looking for, he drops back a little, scrutinizing the area of thick bushes and trees one one side of the path more carefully. Then, glancing around to check that no one else is in sight, he grabs Zach with a burst of speed and pushes him into the undergrowth until his back hits a tree.

“What the fuck?”

“Shhh.” Chris presses a finger to his lips, smirking, just as Zach had done the day before. “I want to suck your dick.”

“ _Here?_ ” They’re surrounded on all side by a veil of branches, blocking out much of the light, but Chris can still see the glint of anticipation enter Zach’s eyes despite his incredulity, flaring brighter when Chris boldly palms Zach through his shorts.

Whatever else Zach has to say—further protest or reckless encouragement—is cut off as Chris quickly sinks to his knees, taking Zach’s shorts with him.

“Hello,” he murmurs, grinning, as Zach’s erection comes bouncing up to meet him. Then he’s gripping the base and drawing the hot flesh into his mouth, smiling around it as Zach’s hand descends to tangle in his hair. 

The path is still hidden from view, but Chris can still hear the people who occasionally pass by and random snatches of their conversations. If only they knew. Chris’ own dick, straining against his shorts, twitches at the thought as he takes Zach down to the root and back again, twisting his hand slightly before swiping his tongue across the broad head. He can feel the tension in Zach’s muscles and flicks his eyes upwards to see Zach’s lips clamped tightly shut. Zach looks down then, and Chris is pinned by the intensity of his gaze. Fuck, yes, this is hot. It wouldn’t take too much longer to make Zach come like this. But, what if…

Chris has a better idea and goes with it, pulling off Zach and rising swiftly. 

“What—“ Zach begins, disgruntled.

“Better with you in me,” Chris says without preamble, ripping his shorts down as he leans forward against the tree.

Zach’s mouth falls open, but the fire in his eyes intensifies. “Are you serious?”

“No, there’s a whole hidden camera crew behind that other tree.” He snorts when Zach actually turns to look. “Yes, I’m serious. Now get your dick over here!”

“Who can resist such sweet talk?” Zach says wryly, but moves closer anyway, his hand slipping down the curve of Chris’ ass, squeezing the soft globes. “But, seeing as we don’t have any means of lubrication…”

Chris crouches down to rummage in the pocket of his shorts, giving Zach an even better view of his ass, and retrieves the lube he’d thought to swipe on his way out earlier. 

Zach eyebrow arches. “I’m going to assume that you don’t routinely carry lube around with you. Otherwise we’ll need to have a conversation, Christopher.”

“Less talking, more fucking,” Chris says firmly. For good measure, he squirts some lube on his fingers and starts working himself open—although, to be frank, with the amount of sex they’ve had all week, it’s barely necessary. Zach groans, the last of his resistance fading as he snatches the lube from Chris’ hand and slicks himself up.

“Better make this fast, then.”

Chris twists his head to leer at him. “Hard and fast all the way, baby.”

Zach is just getting into a steady rhythm, breathing hard on the back of Chris’ neck, when there’s a thump of something landing nearby. Seconds later, a dog comes running in, presumably to fetch it, sniffing around their legs with interest.

“Shit,” Zach curses, pulling out.

“Find it! Quick!” 

Chris should help, but watching a half-naked Zach scrabbling through the undergrowth around them causes giggles to bubble up out of nowhere, and he has to hurriedly clamp a hand over his mouth.

“Snoofie! Snoffiepoo! Come on!”

Chris clamps the hand tighter, actually afraid he might burst a blood vessel in his face from trying to contain his laughter. The owner, whoever she is, is getting alarmingly close when Zach finds the ball and shoves it in the dog’s mouth. Mission accomplished, the dog immediately runs off with it.

“That was _not_ funny,” he whispers, noticing Chris’ red face and teary eyes.

Chris finally drops his hand. “It really was, Zach. Oh my god.” He has to stifle another bout. “And you made a new friend.”

“Snoofiepoo…” Zach shakes his head in disgust, getting back to his feet. He has to brush various bits of leaf litter from his hands and knees. “You know, maybe we should just continue this at home.”

Chris steps right up to him. “Or maybe,” he purrs, one hand slipping between them to revive Zach’s wilted erection, “we should finish what we started.”

“We were nearly caught, Chris!”

“I know,” Chris replies, now kissing along his jaw. “That’s what makes it even hotter.”

Zach groans. Whether it’s in pleasure or resignation, Chris doesn’t know. Probably both. The next moment he’s being pushed back against the tree again, and he stops caring. Zach in charge, and just on the edge of anger, is hot as hell. Chris spreads his legs and bites down on his lower lip as Zach drives back into him, harder this time, faster. Bracing himself, Chris wraps his slick hand around his dick and imagines those footsteps again, getting closer, closer…

With a strangled cry, muffled against his arm, Chris shoots over his hand and the tree in seemingly endless waves. Then Zach is biting his shoulder, flooding him with warmth from within. And yes, it’s just as glorious as Chris had imagined. He leans heavily against the tree, watching his spunk slide down the rough bark, and wonders what he can try next.


	3. Chapter 3

Zach slots his hotel keycard into the lock and pushes the door open, dragging his carry-on in behind him. He doesn’t have time to unpack. Thanks to his delayed flight, he doesn’t have time to do anything except shower and dress, ready for the awards dinner he’s presenting at in—he checks the time on his phone—less than an hour. If his flight had landed on time, he would have had five hours to spare, and he’d had each and every one of them planned out. As it is, all he’s managed to do is text Chris from the cab to let him know he won’t be able to come over until later. He’d received an instant response in the form of a pouty emoticon and a couple of kisses, and Zach had wanted nothing more than to tell the driver there’d been a change of plans. 

Realistically, he hasn’t seen Chris in over a month so a few more hours shouldn’t make a difference. But somehow, being back in LA, in the same city, knowing that Chris is so very close by, makes it all the more difficult. He can’t bail on the awards dinner, though, not when it’s for charity, and definitely not at this short notice. So he jumps in the shower and attempts to work the kinks out of his weary muscles. Normally Chris would have helped him with that, a shared shower and massage, leading to a spectacular blow job—the perfect de-stress care package. Zach’s cock twitches at the thought and he has to force himself to think about something else. He can’t be late.

When he gets out of the shower, feeling about as refreshed as he’s going to without a long sleep, he finds a message on his phone from Jennifer, his PA, telling him that the car will be coming to pick him up in thirty minutes… now closer to twenty. At times like this, especially when he’s this tired, Zach’s glad to have someone else doing all the thinking and organizing. All he has to do is put on his suit and make himself look presentable, and then he’s out the door again.

There’s a sizable press gathering around the hotel entrance—no way near the same scale as a premiere, but enough camera flashes to make spots appear in front of Zach’s eyes. Jennifer, now faithfully at his elbow, encourages him to answer a couple of short questions before he goes in, and he takes a moment to enthuse about his play in New York and another couple of projects he has coming up. Then come the inevitable Trek questions.

“We don’t know much yet,” he says, keeping his smile. “But I look forward to getting the call.”

Zach is being moved along when that particular reporter adds, “Yeah, that’s what your co-star said when he arrived.”

“Oh, really? Who?”

Zach has a pretty good idea, but it’s not until he hears, “Chris. Chris Pine,” that he allows himself to grin widely, a buzz of anticipation stirring in his gut. Chris hadn’t said a word. Zach tilts his head away from the cameras, ignoring any further attempts to get his attention, his gaze now fixed on the door. 

The moment he’s inside, his gaze is scouring the crowd for the tell-tale blond hair and blue eyes, but he’s interrupted by various greetings and introductions, brief instructions on his presentation, and then he’s being led to his table. 

The lights dim in preparation for the event getting underway, and Zach frowns, still searching, when he hears that familiar, deep, and oh so very sexy voice right behind him.

“Looking for someone?”

He spins around, coming face to face with Chris, who’s wearing his most devastating grin—one that makes Zach want to claim him right there and then. But they’re surrounded by people, some of whom are watching them curiously, so all Zach can do is behave like a normal friend and co-star.

“Chris!”

Zach can at least hug him—only a friend hug, but it’s enough to feel the heat of him, the brush of his salt and pepper beard, inhale his scent, everything that Zach’s come to think of as purely _Chris_. What he doesn’t expect is for Chris to whisper in his ear, “Restroom. Two minutes.” Then, before Zach can question it—before he can even open his mouth—Chris is pulling back, slapping his arm with a generic, “Good to see you back, man,” and disappearing into the crowd again.

Zach takes his seat, smiling politely at his table companions, and waits a few minutes before excusing himself. “Restroom,” he explains quietly to Jennifer, who looks like she’s about to protest before apparently thinking better of it.

“Don’t be too long.”

With the show getting underway and people taking their seats, the restroom is almost empty. Zach goes to piss and actually manages to relieve himself of a fair amount—thanks to too much bottled water on the plane—while waiting for the last couple of guys to leave. When the door finally closes, and silence descends, Zach zips up and moves towards the cubicles.

“Chris?” he prompts, barely a whisper.

He’s starting to wonder if there’s another restroom he doesn’t know about—or if maybe Chris got waylaid somewhere—when the door to his left opens abruptly and he’s dragged inside, into a warm embrace and a scorching kiss.

“What are you doing here?” Zach asks when he’s regained enough breath (and mental capacity).

“I couldn’t wait,” Chris explains in a rush of breath against Zach’s lips. “Plus you look _really_ hot in this suit, man.”

“This event is five hundred dollars a head, Chris!”

Licking his sinfully voluptuous lips, Chris shrugs and slips a hand down between their bodies to stroke Zach through his pants. “Money well spent.”

And just like that Zach caves, pushing Chris back against the opposite wall, claiming his lips again. Because he wants to, and, well, talking is overrated, especially when the gorgeous body he’s been dreaming about for weeks is finally within reach again. Despite this heavenly distraction, Zach keeps his ears strained for the slightest noise that would indicate they’re no longer alone. Being caught like this in a restroom cubicle would be bad for both of them, and far too cliché besides, but the danger just turns the heat up that much more.

Chris groans softly, almost a whimper, one hand reaching up to cradle Zach’s face as the other tugs his zipper down and delves inside. Zach’s already rock hard—has been since the second Chris’ lips first made contact—and he’s pretty sure Chris is in a similar state. 

He’s just beginning to thrust into Chris’ grip, letting the pleasure spiral, when a loud knock on the outer door has the same effect as a bucket of cold water. 

“Zach?” Jennifer calls. “You’re up!”

Ignoring Chris’ quiet snort, and his stupid grin as his eyes dart down to the prominent bulge in Zach’s pants and back up again, Zach turns to call, “Right this second?”

“No, you still have a few minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there!”

He looks back at Chris. “I can _not_ go out like this. You need to take care of it. Right now.”

Chris tilts his head, blue eyes playful. “Shouldn’t _I_ be the one giving orders—“ He lets out a soft grunt as he’s unceremoniously pushed to his knees, pausing to grin up at Zach through long lashes. “Pushy.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

Seconds later, Zach’s fingers are buried in Chris’ hair, tensing against his scalp with every thrust into that glorious mouth. Chris is essentially giving him free rein, letting him fuck his face, and it’s unbelievably hot, especially when those cerulean eyes are locked with his, pupils blown wide. Zach wants to hold back, slow things down a notch, and savor every perfect moment, because he’s already so close. But there’s no time for that now. Later. Later they’ll do things properly. Later he’ll fuck Chris into the mattress. Make him pay. Make him _his_.

The image is enough to trigger his release, emptying himself down Chris’ throat with a ragged breath. Chris swallows around him, careful to lap up every trace before he tucks Zach back into his pants and stands, pressing a soft kiss to his slack lips.

“Go on, go do your thing,” Chris says, nudging him, before glancing down at the very noticeable bulge in his own pants. “I need to wait a few minutes and will this fucker down.”

He’s wearing that devastating grin again, and Zach can’t help kissing him once more. A look passes between them—a promise—and then Zach’s reluctantly steps away to open the cubicle door. When this show is over, he fully intends to make up for those five hours. In fact, he’s going to keep Chris in bed for as long as Chris lets him. Smiling in anticipation, Zach straightens his suit and exits the restroom.


	4. Chapter 4

“I can’t believe you sat through three hours of that for me.”

“Well… you and the food,” Chris pants out, managing to flash a cheeky grin despite being fucked into the mattress. Zach nips his bottom lip in swift retribution, deliberately easing the pace of his thrusts until Chris lets out a whine of frustration.

“Zach…”

Considering the note of pleading enough of an admission of defeat, Zach thrusts deep, watching with smug satisfaction as Chris’ eyes glaze over. His study proves short-lived, though, as Chris arches up and recaptures his lips, dragging him back down with insistent fingers. And any further words are abandoned, lost in the delicious heat of Chris’ mouth and the driving need to claim him again.

Chris is closer, not having had the aid of an earlier pressure release, but Zach keeps him on the edge for a little while. He loves to watch Chris come undone beneath him, the desire, the _need_ in his eyes turning them to an almost midnight hue. Losing patience, Chris rocks upwards, igniting the burn in Zach that has him reaching between their slick bodies to take Chris in hand.

“Fuck! Zach, I’m…”

The rest of the sentence proves unnecessary as Chris shoots across Zach’s hand and both of their stomachs. Zach dips his head to lap at the mess, making Chris groan.

“God, that’s hot.”

Smirking, Zach takes Chris’ hands, entwining their fingers before placing them on either side of Chris’ head, and fucks him hard and fast. He’s spurred on by the filthy things Chris is murmuring into his ear.

“Fuck me… that’s it… come on, baby… give it to me… fill me up…”

Zach’s eyes fall shut as he comes, rhythm stuttering as he lets the pleasure overwhelm his senses. Distantly, he feels Chris’ lips on his neck, his jaw, and Zach instinctively turns his head, seeking them, because he can never get enough of this. Of _him_.

***

“So what’s gotten into you lately?”

They’re curled around each other in bed, sated for now, the scent of sweat and sex heavy in the air. It’s probably getting late, but Zach’s in no rush to move yet, and it seems Chris isn’t either, sprawled half on top of him, face buried in his neck.

“Apart from you, you mean?” Chris mumbles against his skin, amusement lacing his tone.

Zach snorts, lightly slapping one well-rounded ass cheek. “I mean the park, Chris, and the restroom tonight.” His mind flashes back to Snoofiepoo, the ridiculous crossbreed that had interrupted them in Central Park mid-coitus, leading to disturbing thoughts of what would have happened if the owner had followed, or if someone had come into the restroom at the wrong moment. “We’re going to get caught if you keep this up.”

Chris sighs, the puff of warm breath making Zach shiver and goose bumps break across his skin. “I know. That’s the problem.”

Momentarily distracted by sensation, Zach frowns in confusion. “Huh?”

“The thought of getting caught… well… it’s hot. Really hot. You have no idea how worked up I was all afternoon just thinking about luring you into that restroom. I had to jack off in the shower before I left.”

Zach’s dick twitches with interest, clearly not concerned with the rest of Chris’ statement, but Zach ignores the flare of arousal, nudging Chris’ face upwards so that he can look at him properly. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that sex in public, and with it the very real danger of ruining both of our careers, turns you on?”

Chris has the decency to look contrite. “Kind of? Okay, yes. But it’s totally your fault.”

“My fault.”

“Er… hello? Who went down on me in a public movie theater?”

“That was—“

“Totally hot, yeah. When can we do that again?”

Exasperated and turned on in equal measure, Zach groans. “Jesus Christ, I’ve created a monster.”

Chris burrows back into his neck, gently biting below his ear. “A horny monster.”

“Chris, seriously. We have to be careful.”

“I know.” Chris lifts his head to meet Zach’s gaze again, the playfulness momentarily suppressed. “It’s reckless and dangerous and it could end really _really_ badly. But…” He presses his lips to Zach’s, punctuating his words with kisses, “if we _are_ careful… can we do it sometimes?”

Zach sighs, knowing he’s lost the battle. He’d lost it the moment he’d given into that first kiss, all those months ago. At this point, there’s very little he won’t do for the man in his arms. “You’re going to be the end of me, Pine.”

Chris hums, reaching down to take hold of Zach’s half-hard cock, quickly coaxing it to full strength. “It’ll be a good end, though.”

Zach feels the sparks of arousal kindle into flame, and he could quite easily allow the fire to overwhelm him again—would be happy to—except he’s uncomfortably hot, and there’s already the congealed mess of their earlier activities sticking them together.

“Hey.” He shifts, getting Chris’ attention as an idea occurs. “How about a swim?”

“ _Now_?” Chris’ hand stills and he sits back, giving Zach a shrewd look. “Is this is your version of ‘sorry, darling, I have a headache’?”

“It’s not,” Zach assures him quickly, kissing the smallest trace of a pout off his lips. “But I do have a plan.”

“Okay,” Chris says slowly.

“Step one,” Zach says, lifting himself off the bed and offering Chris his hand. “Grab your swim trunks.” When the pout threatens again, he adds, “Trust me.”

“Fine,” Chris huffs, letting Zach pull him off the bed. He rummages in one of his drawers for a moment before producing a pair of white shorts, a loose fitting pair that tie at the waist.

“Perfect,” Zach says as Chris dons them, his remark aimed both at the shorts and at Chris’ ass, which he gets a perfect view of as he bends over.

Chris raises an eyebrow. “What about you?”

“I don’t need them,” Zach replies, grabbing a bathrobe to wear temporarily. “Now, step two,” he continues, leading Chris out of the bedroom. “Put your TV on and turn the volume up.”

“I thought we were swim—“

“Trust, Christopher.”

Rolling his eyes, Chris does as he’s told. There’s some kind of game show on, the contestants vying for a holiday and a new car. “If step three involves jumping in the pool with the TV, I’d rather get my kicks in the bedroom.”

Zach ignores him. “Step three, dim the lights and open the patio doors wide.”

Chris gives Zach a suspicious look but sets about following his instructions. “Okay, done. Now are you going to tell me what this has got to do with swimming?”

“All in good time,” Zach says, swatting his ass. “Now get in the pool.”

“Bossy,” Chris grumbles, but he seems happy enough to get into the water. The temperature is more comfortable out of the house, and the air is filled with the scent of jasmine and the ineffable quality of a cloudless summer night. It’s one of the things Zach misses most about LA—the main one being the man now gliding through the crystal clear water on his back.

Shedding his robe, Zach joins him, letting out a soft sigh of contentment as he sinks into the cool water. He does a couple of lazy laps, enjoying the soothing motion of the water, until he’s back next to Chris where he started.

“Hey,” he says with a smile, bringing his arms down to trap Chris against the side. His warmth is like a beacon, his golden skin glistening with drops of water, making Zach want to chase every one of them with his tongue.

Chris smiles back, leaning into him, fingers tangling in the dark hair covering Zach’s chest. “Hey.”

The kiss starts off soft, but quickly gains steam in a rush of reawakened desire. Zach can feel the burning heat of Chris through his shorts, pressing against his stomach. When he reaches down to stroke a hand across the taut fabric, Chris groans loudly.

“Shhh!” Zach murmurs, nipping his lip. “We don’t want them to hear.”

Chris, to his credit, only takes a second to catch on—to put Zach’s words together with the loud murmur of voices drifting out to them through the patio doors—and when he does, he groans again, quieter this time but with more vehemence. Yes, he’s definitely on board with this. 

Zach claims victory and loosens the strings of Chris’ shorts, which is made more difficult by Chris pressing even more insistently against him, seeking friction. He has to swallow a gasp, smirk faltering, as Chris bites the juncture between his neck and shoulder, a warm tongue laving across his flesh to soothe the sting. 

It’s at this point that Zach decides he can move things a little quicker, which may or may not have something to do with his dick all but burrowing into Chris of its own volition. He tugs Chris’ shorts down, with some difficulty due to the drag of the water, and wraps a hand around him, satisfied when Chris breathes a soft, “Fuck.” Zach can tell how hard it is for Chris to control himself, and it turns him on even more.

“That’s it, baby,” he says next to Chris’ ear, his voice low and sultry as his hand travels slowly up and down Chris’ rock-hard shaft. “We have to be very quiet. We don’t want them finding us like this, do we?”

With another groan, almost a whimper, Chris turns his head to recapture Zach’s lips, his growing desperation expressed in the forceful thrust of his tongue and the plunder of Zach’s mouth. Zach doesn’t notice the shift of Chris’ arm until he feels a strong hand close around his own straining shaft, the twist and tug enough for him to momentarily surrender all of his senses. He registers Chris’ smirk against his mouth, and with it his silent _payback’s a bitch, huh?_

Zach responds by lining up their cocks and opening his hand to enclose both, feeling Chris do the same so that they create a snug fit, generating friction against their hands and each other as they slide through the water in controlled thrusts.

“Need to be quick,” Zach says breathlessly into his mouth, gradually increasing the rhythm. “Someone might see.” 

Chris’ groans are becoming more pronounced, his breath ragged, and Zach is in a similar state. He forces himself to continue talking, and a burst of inspiration has him latching on to a female voice that rises about the others. “There’s a woman by the door. Shit, she’s looking this way. She hasn’t seen us, but she’s about to come outside.”

“Oh, Jesus…” Eyes squeezed shut, Chris is thrusting mindlessly now, making the water slop against their chests. Zach knows Chris is on a knife-edge and he also knows he’s not far behind himself—the only thing grounding him is his focus on Chris. He gracefully tips the balance.

“She’s stepped out onto the patio… she’s walking towards the pool… she’s about to see us, Chris… three more steps… two…”

“Fuck!”

Zach barely registers the burst of warmth blooming around his hand before he’s coming too, pulsing creamy jets into the water to mix with Chris’ and drift away on the eddies and currents they’ve created. Then Chris’ mouth is back on his, the edge of desperation gone but the passion still flaring just as brightly. Zach cups his face and kisses back, content now to let go, to forget the world, real and imaginary, and to simply lose himself in Chris’ strong embrace.


	5. Chapter 5

Chris manages to grab his phone on the second ring, despite having run from the shower. “Hey.”

“You sound out of breath,” Zach comments, foregoing a greeting. “Having fun without me?”

“Jerk,” Chris laughs. “Actually I was in the shower.”

“Now there’s an image I can work with.”

“Did you just call for phone sex?” Chris huffs, his dick twitching nonetheless.

“Relax, Christopher. As much as would like to…” He lowers his voice, and Chris realizes that he’s not alone. Is he at the theater already? “It really wouldn’t be appropriate right now.”

“Oh, okay.” Wedging the phone between ear and shoulder, Chris wraps the towel a little more securely around his waist. “So… was there a reason you called?”

Zach stays silent for so long that Chris almost takes the phone away from his ear to check it hasn’t died on him. “Honestly? I just needed to hear your voice.” There’s a quiet huff of laughter. “Jesus, that didn’t sound nearly so sappy in my head.”

Chris smiles and holds the phone closer, as if it can close the distance between them. It’s been close to a month since they were together, but, like always, it feels much longer. Chris’ gaze drifts to the window, where he can just see the edge of the pool. “I miss you, too. Is everything okay? With the play, I mean.”

“It’s fine. Really. I’m… I’m just having one of those days, I guess.” Chris hears another voice in the background, followed by Zach’s muffled response as he covers the phone. “Listen,” he says, back on the line, “I have to go. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Chris says, and then, because he thinks Zach might need to hear it, he adds, “I love you.”

He knows Zach can’t say it back, but he doesn’t need to. Chris hears it in his quiet, “Yeah… bye.”

***

Chris sits looking out of the small window at the wisps of white cloud, his earphones in so that no one will bother him. His decision to get a flight to New York was impulsive even for him, and possibly reckless, but he can’t shake the feeling that Zach needs him. And that’s enough reason not to wait another few weeks like they’d planned. Besides, he doesn’t have anything on that can’t be rescheduled, despite his agent’s protestations.

It’s true that he doesn’t have an excuse to fall back on this time—there’s no meeting, no interview, no professional commitment whatsoever. Even when they’d had that week off together, Chris was already in New York for a few show appearances, simply extending his stay a little. Now it’s just him flying to see Zach, something that has the potential to wind up in the press. But Chris can’t bring himself to care all that much. Increasingly, he’s caring less and less what the press knows—which is a whole other level of reckless that could potentially derail his carefully constructed career plan. Chris shakes those thoughts away and focuses back on Zach and the reason he’s doing this. He thinks about everything that Zach has done for him, and suddenly his decision doesn’t seem reckless at all.

It’s late by the time he gets out of JFK—too late to see the show, but early enough that he can still catch Zach afterwards. By sheer luck, he’s avoided being recognized so far, but he’s not sure that’s going to hold much longer. There’s a kid a few feet away from him as he hails a cab, and as Chris glances his way, he sees the first sparks of recognition. He hastily jumps in the back of the cab before the kid can say much more than, “Hey…”

By the time the cab pulls up at the Booth Theater, the post-performance exodus is in full progress. Telling the driver to stop around the corner, Chris looks enviously at the people streaming through the main doors. He comforts himself with the knowledge that he’s seen the play twice already, although he would have quite happily watched it a third time, knowing Zach would have blown him away all over again.

Chris gives the driver a generous tip and jumps out, heading for the stage door. He has to take off his sunglasses to be recognized, hates doing it, but then he’s swiftly allowed through, away from the crowds and the increasing probability of being recognized and photographed.

Having been backstage both times previously, he’s able to find his own way to Zach’s dressing room, flashing a smile at everyone he passes. Truthfully, though, now that he’s actually here, he’s more than a little nervous. The next few minutes will either go really well or really badly. Chris can’t see much of an in-between. He just hopes it’s the former. Arriving at the right door, he blows out a deep breath and knocks.

“Who is it?”

“Special delivery.”

The door flies open within seconds and Zach, apparently halfway through dressing—bare-chested, damp hair askew—stares at him like he doesn’t quite believe he’s real. “Chris?”

“Surprise?” Chris offers, grinning. 

“Oh my god,” Zach says, laughing, grabbing a handful of his coat to drag him inside. Chris lets out a soft _oomph_ as he’s enveloped in a fierce hug, distantly hearing the door shut behind him. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

There’s something unnaturally fragile in Zach’s voice, and Chris knows beyond any doubt now that he’s made the right decision. He slides a hand up Zach’s back, returning the pressure, and turns his head slightly to nuzzle Zach’s ear, inhaling the familiar scent, mixed with soap and shampoo. He can only see a small part of the room over Zach’s shoulder, but what he can see is in disarray, which is unusual for someone who is generally so fastidious. Clothing scattered haphazardly, detritus littering the table, a towel slung across a chair… it seems that whatever hidden turmoil is in Zach’s mind is bleeding though his touch. In the mirror, Chris glimpses his own reflection, with Zach all but wrapped around him. He tightens his hold. 

When Zach lets go, he’s smiling again, but Chris only glimpses it for a second before he’s being pushed back against the wall, his mouth devoured. Part of him wants to slow things down, make Zach tell him what’s going on, but he senses that, right now, _this_ is what Zach needs. So he gives himself up, melting into Zach’s touch, knowing that there’ll be time to talk later. Hopefully all night.

Warmed by the prospect, Chris cups Zach’s face and kisses him back. It feels like Zach’s hands are everywhere at once, delving under his shirt to skim across his muscles, a soft teasing stroke across his crotch, the tweak of a nipple. Chris is barely aware of being steadily undressed until Zach releases his mouth and sinks to his knees.

“Zach—fuck!”

Zach hums around Chris’ dick, one hands settling on a hip as he gets to work, and there’s an edge of desperation there—something almost animalistic about his intensity. It’s raw and powerful and devastatingly hot. What’s more, the door isn’t locked and Chris can hear the footsteps of everyone who walks down the corridor outside through the thin wall he’s pressed up against. He doubts anyone would just walk right in without knocking, but still, there’s that element of danger again. 

Chris groans and looks down at Zach, realizing as he meets those dark orbs—almost black now—that Zach could have easily locked the door if he’d wanted to. He knows exactly what he’s doing to Chris right now, the trace of a smirk around his stretched lips. Chris tangles his fingers in Zach’s soft dark locks and tugs gently in response, but his own smirk is quickly erased when Zach cups and rolls his balls in his hand, hollowing his cheeks to increase the pressure.

Chris thuds his head back against the wall, on the brink already, but then it’s been almost four weeks with nothing other than his own hands for stimulation. And this is always one of his favorite jacking off fantasies. The real thing—Zach’s hot mouth and talented fingers, now sliding back to circle his hole—is a whole different ballgame. It’s when he realizes that Zach has freed his own erection and is swiftly jacking himself off, along with his mind helpfully supplying the image of someone opening the door to find them like this, that Chris loses the fight. His fingers tighten in Zach’s hair as he comes, pulsing into the warm cocoon of Zach’s mouth, a soft curse spilling from his lips.

A guttural moan alerts him to Zach’s impending climax, and he looks down just as the first spurts erupt, watching as the thick ropes steadily decorate the wall and the floor between them. Chris wants to sink down the wall and lap the pearly residue from the tip of Zach’s dick, but before he can go with it Zach is rising, pinning him back against the wall again, reclaiming his lips. Chris catches his tongue and gently sucks it, tasting the faint edge of his own bitterness, feeling Zach’s smile that he can’t help mirroring.

The next moment there’s a loud knock on the door—the very unlocked door that they’re standing right beside. Even spent, Chris’ dick stirs with renewed interest.

“Zach?” 

It’s a male voice Chris doesn’t recognize. Zach presses a finger to Chris’ lips, which he immediately envelopes, making Zach’s answer a little breathy. “Yeah?”

“We’re heading out to a bar. You coming?”

Chris snickers and receives a soft punch to his shoulder.

“No, I have plans,” Zach calls back, hooking a finger under Chris’ half-open shirt. Chris raises an eyebrow questioningly. “Have fun, though, okay?”

“Sure will. Later, man.”

“So…” Chris says slowly, running his hand through the tangle of dark hair adorning Zach’s chest. “What are you planning to do with me?”

“Oh, a whole lot of things,” Zach purrs, pressing close to meet Chris’ lips again. The moment Chris closes his eyes, though, Zach’s warm touch disappears. His eyes fly open again, finding Zach donning a fresh shirt across the room, dark eyes glinting with amusement. “But first, dinner.”

And yeah, okay, that’s probably a good idea. Chris has hardly eaten anything since he left LA, and besides, it’ll give them time to talk in a setting where they can’t get distracted too easily. Not without some major breaking news story anyway. 

So he shrugs and smiles, swiping a box of Kleenex off the table to clear up any and all incriminating evidence. “Dinner sounds good.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long interlude - blame life and a ton of other responsibilities. Rest assured this is still very much a work in progress, one that seems intent on taking a slightly more deep and meaningful path than the one I'd originally intended, but still with lots of sex. ;)

Chris had thought that the only distraction during dinner would be the food, but he clearly hasn’t counted on Zach, whose foot—sans shoe—is currently inching its way up his inner thigh under the table. Thankfully the tablecloth is large, hanging almost all the way to the ground. 

They’re in a dark corner of a small bistro off the beaten path, unlikely to attract tourists or paps. The only thing they have to worry about is eagle-eyed patrons taking pictures on their phones, which is almost as unlikely, given their secluded table and the dim lighting. 

So far Zach has evaded any attempt to talk about what’s going on, waving it off with cheerful ease and steering the conversation away again whenever Chris tries to bring it up. Chris doesn’t push, not while they’re surrounded by other people, but his determination to get answers has not abated, despite Zach’s masterful under-the-table seduction technique.

“Are you trying to make me spill food down myself?” Chris asks as Zach’s toes gently nudge his stirring cock.

Zach smirks over the rim of his wine glass, having abandoned his own meal in favor of drinking. He’s eaten less than half of it. “You don’t generally need help in that department.”

Chris shrugs, taking another bite of his burger, humming as the flavor hits his taste buds. “Food is one of the joys of life.” He licks a blob of sauce off his finger, noticing as he does so that Zach’s gaze is glued to the movement of his tongue. Considering that Zach’s toes are still nestled in the region of his dick, Chris decides to dish out a little payback, sliding the entire digit into his mouth and emitting a low groan.

By the time their server appears to clear the dishes, neither of them feel much like waiting around for dessert, although they do have to stay seated at their table until they’re in a more presentable state.

“I’ll take care of it,” Zach says when the server delivers the check, already pulling a bunch of bills from his wallet.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Chris, you flew six hours across the country to see me. I think I can shout you dinner.” Zach’s laughing as he says it, but Chris can see how much this impromptu visit means to him and he feels doubly happy to be here. 

He waits until the server is out of earshot to counter with, “Yes, but you did already give me an amazing blowjob.”

“That was hardly a hardship on my part.”

“Your ship was very hard.”

“Your appalling metaphors are showing.” 

Zach’s disapproving look is spoiled by the smile he can’t quite hide, and Chris grins in victory. Then they’re just staring at each other and the intensity is back again, and Chris finds himself hoping that the server returns promptly because Zach looks like he might jump right over the table to claim him. The thought makes his cock jump. Okay, maybe the server can take a little longer.

***

It’s hardly surprising that they don’t make it all the way back to Zach’s apartment, and Chris certainly doesn’t object when Zach grabs his arm and drags him into a dark alley off a mostly deserted side street, nor when he’s pushed back against a cold wall behind a dumpster.

“Weren’t you the one saying we should be more careful?” Chris asks when Zach’s mouth momentarily leaves his, desire infusing the amusement in his voice.

“Shut up,” Zach says thickly against his neck, muttering what sounds like, “Need you,” under his breath. His fingers are already fiddling with Chris’ fly, desperation and a fair amount of alcohol making the task that much more difficult. Taking advantage of his distraction, Chris pushes Zach around so that he’s against the wall instead.

“I believe it’s _your_ turn.”

He sinks to his knees—the ground is even colder, he discovers—and makes quick work of freeing Zach’s cock, his mouth already filling with saliva in anticipation. Zach presses forward eagerly, urgent fingers finding purchase in Chris’ hair, and Chris has to lay an arm firmly across his waist to hold him in place. He doesn’t want to spend a great deal of time in this position, especially with the pungent smell of the dumpster filling his nostrils, but equally he doesn’t want the party to end too quickly either. And Zach looks like he’s about to shoot in record time.

So Chris starts off slow, easing Zach away from the edge with brief light touches, pulling back whenever Zach tries to push forward. Then, when Zach’s about ready to blow a fuse, Chris takes him deep, relaxing his throat to accommodate every inch, and surrenders control. He knows this is what Zach needs, and Zach immediately takes his cue, pulling out only to thrust deep again, nails digging into Chris’ scalp as he ups the tempo. 

Chris’ eyes flick upwards, searching for Zach’s, but it’s too dark to see anything except the faint gleam of his eyes. He concentrates on Zach’s fingers instead, the way his touch expresses everything he’s feeling, and Chris doesn’t need to see his face to picture it clearly. He hums appreciatively, making Zach’s frenetic rhythm falter, and then the first drops of hot cum are hitting his tongue, accompanied by a string of soft exclamations from above. Chris swallows, keeps swallowing until Zach’s cock starts to soften in his mouth, and then gently cleans the sensitive flesh with his tongue, finally letting it slip from his lips.

Before he can tuck Zach back in, he’s being hauled to his feet and yanked into a bruising kiss that softens slightly as he responds. Chris breaks the kiss a few seconds later when he hears a thump somewhere to his right. He squints down the alley as his heart rate picks up, his dick throbbing painfully against his jeans at the thought that someone could be watching… could have watched all along. Meanwhile his brain takes the opposite viewpoint, supplying possible morning headlines—all equally horrific.

“Probably a cat,” Zach says, looking utterly unconcerned. “Or it could be Snoofiepoo again…” He snickers.

But it’s a man that stumbles out of the darkness; an old man, homeless judging by his ragged appearance and, thankfully, more than a little drunk.

“Don’t mind me,” he slurrs, pausing to take a long drink from whatever bottle is nestled in his brown paper bag. “I ain’t judging! Could have been me once…”

He carries on walking past them, muttering to himself in-between further swigs, disappearing round the corner a moment later. Chris looks back at Zach and they simultaneously erupt into giggles, relief making them slightly more high-pitched than normal. Approaching sirens cut them short, prompting a hasty retreat. They don’t want to push their luck _too_ far.

***

“So,” Chris says, collapsing onto Zach’s couch. He’s spent the last five minutes enthusiastically greeting the dogs, who seem equally pleased to see him if the wild tail-thumping is any indication; Noah has followed him over to the couch and crashed out at his feet on the parquet floor. The brisk walk home has tempered Chris’ arousal. Now he just wants to talk. He waits for Zach to settle beside him before continuing, linking their fingers together, thumb stroking up and down the edge of Zach’s palm in what he hopes is a soothing motion. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Zach instantly makes a face and runs his free hand through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles. Chris half expects him to change the subject again, readies himself for a fight, but it seems that Zach is ready to talk. “You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

“No, I won’t. Come on, spill.”

“This… this doesn’t feel right.”

Chris feels a lead weight settle across his chest at what those words could mean. He forces his thumb to keep moving, his voice light. “What doesn’t?”

“Any of it. The play, the city… it doesn’t feel right anymore. _I_ don’t feel right.”

“Okay, hold up a minute,” Chris says, trying to get his head around Zach’s statement, but also filled with profound relief that he wasn’t on that particular list. “You love the play and you love this city, I know you do. So what’s changed?”

“Nothing. Everything.” Zach sighs heavily, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I’ve been to five separate auditions over the past month, and I’ve lost every single part. And the play… I’m just not feeling it anymore. I know the lines and the stage directions by heart, but I can’t seem to inhabit the character like I used to… I can’t get under his skin.”

Chris’ heart breaks a little as he listens. He’s never seen Zach so unsure of himself before. So _lost_. It’s almost as if a different person is sitting next to him, wrapped up in everything that makes Zach so familiar… so… _Zach_. Letting his hand slip free, he tugs Zach closer and kisses him, keeps kissing him until he feels Zach start to relax under his touch. It isn’t passionate or demanding, nor filled with any of the intent that burned in the kisses they’d shared earlier. Chris offers only warm comfort and reassurance. When he feels Zach relax against him, he pulls back just enough to rest their heads together.

“You haven’t lost anything, Zach. You’re an incredible actor, one of the best I’ve ever worked with. This… this is nothing more than a blip. And you’ve seen enough of mine to know that it doesn’t last.” He pauses, not sure whether to voice something he’s been thinking about for quite a while. It’s a subject that he was going to leave up to Zach to bring up, putting the ball in his court so to speak, but Zach is obviously unhappy and it’s a possible solution. Decision made, he pulls back further so that he can look directly into Zach’s eyes. “You only have a few months left of this run, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So technically, after that—if you wanted to—you could move back to LA.”

Zach looks at him quizzically. “Uh-huh…”

It makes Chris doubt his decision to bring it up at all, but he’s committed now. “Do you? Want to, I mean.”

“Do I want to move all the way back across the country again? Not particularly.” Chris’ heart sinks, but then Zach’s hand wraps around his, warm and reassuring. “Do I want to be closer to you? Absolutely.”

Chris frowns, trying to catch up. “Wait, you _want_ to move back?”

Zach lifts his head, mirroring Chris’ frown. “You thought I didn’t?”

“I didn’t want to presume—“

“Chris…” Zach shakes his head, and then shifts to curl his legs beneath him, meeting Chris’ gaze steadily. “I love you. And I’ve missed you every day you haven’t been around. Even if everything here was going great, it wouldn’t compare to being with you. So yes, if you don’t mind, I’d quite like us to live in the same city again so that I can see you on an almost daily basis.”

Chris is fully aware of how goofy his grin must be, and that he’ll probably be mocked for it later, but he can’t bring himself to care right now, not when Zach has just given his heart so freely. He drags Zach forward into a kiss, sealing the deal the best way he knows how. 

“I don’t mind.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the horribly long wait. :\

Chris is woken by the shrill beep of his phone. Groaning, he carefully extricates himself from Zach’s heavy limbs to snatch it off the bedside table. Since his contacts are out and his glasses are in his bag across the room, he has to squint at the screen to see his agent’s name, belatedly realizing that it’s two thirty in the morning. Clearly she has no respect for time zones.

He swipes the screen to bring up the message anyway, reading it quickly before tossing the phone back where it was. She’ll have to wait for a decent hour if she wants a reply.

“Who was it?” Zach mumbles, curling back around Chris as he settles back down.

“Just my agent.”

“How long do I have you for?”

Chris leans into Zach’s warmth, his hand coming to rest atop Zach’s, squeezing. “I have to fly back tomorrow.” He would have liked to have stayed a little longer, a _lot_ longer, but he has a stack of meetings and his agent was only able to push them back until Monday, which means a Sunday flight.

“Mmm.” Zach nuzzles his neck, placing a kiss on his pulse point. “Then we’ll have to make the most of today.” He abruptly shifts so that he’s half on top of Chris and their mouths meet, slow kisses gaining momentum as their bodies wake.

“Don’t you have to be up in, like, five hours?” Chris murmurs, smiling to show he’s in no way complaining about being kissed senseless. He’d be happy to spend the whole of his visit like this.

“I’m up right now,” Zach answers with a smirk, rocking his hips forward so that Chris can feel the hard hot proof. 

And with that, any thoughts of going back to sleep disappear completely. Chris slides a hand down to wrap around Zach’s length and captures his mouth again.

~~~

Zach’s morning meetings are, thankfully, over and done with quickly, leaving them with a good solid block of time together until Zach’s due at the theater. As always, Chris cherishes the opportunity to spend time together and Zach seems equally happy. He’s certainly more relaxed than he was the night before, but Chris still harbors a lingering concern about his state of mind and takes the opportunity to study Zach over coffee in Central Park.

“How are you feeling about tonight’s performance?” he asks during a break in the conversation.

“Good,” Zach says with a nod. “Well, _better_ ,” he amends, stretching his legs out in front of him. They’ve managed to claim a bench in a relatively quiet spot besides the lake and, although it’s not exactly warm out, the sun is shining. “Will you watch?”

Halfway through a sip of his coffee, Chris swallows. “Sure, if you don’t mind.”

Zach shoots him an incredulous look and huffs a laugh, shaking his head slightly as he lifts his coffee cup to his lips. “I don’t mind.”

Chris can’t help smiling at the words quoted back to him, and the memory that is drawn to mind with them. He looks out across the lake, taking in the birds flying low across the water, the glint of the sun across each ripple. In a few months, LA will become Zach’s home once again and New York will be a collection of memories, some fading and some remaining as bright as the day they were created. Some Chris could never forget. 

“So we have four hours,” Zach says, nudging his leg. “What do you want to do?”

There are also memories that Chris intends to revisit before their time is up. His smile grows as he looks back at Zach. “Why don’t we go to see a movie?”

Zach blinks, the trace of a frown appearing. “A movie? Which one?”

Chris leans in slowly, making Zach’s eyes widen and dart to the side once as if to check the area, but Chris bypasses his mouth to whisper in his ear. “I don’t care.” He pulls back to watch the realization flood Zach’s face and steals a kiss before calmly returning to his coffee.

~~~

Chris savors the memory of those precious hours together as he sits in the theater that evening, waiting for the performance to begin and Zach to take the stage. They’d returned to the same movie theater—and, Chris is pretty sure, the same seats way up at the back—for an early afternoon showing of the Hitchcock classic _Strangers on a Train_. As far as Chris’ plans were concerned, it was the perfect movie choice.

He remembers the hot weight of Zach in his mouth, the mounting tension echoed in the drama onscreen, and enhanced by the rising and falling strains of music accompanying it; the solid warmth of Zach’s hand resting at the base of his skull, fingers occasionally flexing, scraping against his scalp; the certainty of countless unspoken words and noises held behind Zach’s tightly pressed lips, only the faintest sighs allowed to escape. 

There weren’t as many people in the theater with them as the previous time, but the thrill was no less compelling. Chris had been hard before he’d even taken his seat and the pressure had only increased from there. In fact, he’d been hard-pressed not to take care of himself at the same time as Zach. But he’d been rewarded handsomely for resisting, for no sooner had he straightened in his seat, grinning lasciviously as he licked his lips, than Zach was leaning in to settle the score.

Chris blinks back to the present as an announcement is made across the theater, reminding patrons to switch off their phones and that the taking of photographs is strictly forbidden. He shifts in his seat, feeling the press of his half-hard cock against the front of his pants, and switches his phone to silent. Moments later the lights dim and he feels a thrill of excitement, as he always does. He wonders how much bigger that thrill is for the actors backstage, and if he’ll get to experience the thrill of Broadway himself one day. But that, and everything else, fades away as the play begins. Chris sits back and allows it to draw him in completely.

When he goes backstage after, Zach immediately looks for his critique. He breaks into a relieved grin when Chris assures him that he’d smashed it and shows him the lingering goose bumps on his arms. And he’s not exaggerating; Zach had blown him away with his performance, just like Chris knew he would. Because the truth is that even if Zach sometimes doubts his capabilities, Chris never has. 

He feels Zach’s gratitude in the softness of the kiss that follows, a world away from the desperation of the previous night. But anything further is put on hold so Zach can get cleaned up and change out of his stage clothes. Chris takes a seat and appreciates the view.

The moment they step out of Zach’s dressing room, they’re invited to go out again with a number of cast and crew. Happy to see Zach buzzing from his performance rather than broken by it, Chris agrees, even though he’s under no illusions that it’ll be significantly more than Zach’s promise of just a couple of drinks.

They wind up in a bustling bar a few blocks away, settling in a corner around a couple of tables. It’s an interesting group, with plenty to say, but while they talk, Chris finds his attention drawn to Zach’s hands. The more he watches, the more he can tell that Zach is fighting the urge to touch him in some way; slight movements and twitches, that anyone else wouldn’t notice or instantly dismiss if they did, give him away. He settles for sitting close enough to rub shoulders, occasionally brushing arms as he reaches for his drink, but it’s not quite enough. Chris has a sudden urge to just grab his hand right there and then, and let everyone think what they will. He tightens his hand around his drink as if to still the impulse and refocuses on the conversation. For the most part, he’s happy to let it meander without too much input, but Zach is as loquacious as ever, and a couple of drinks inevitably turns into many.

Chris is almost relieved when his phone rings and he’s able to excuse himself from the gathering. He glances at the screen quickly before stepping outside the bar and answering.

“Hi, Katie.”

“Hey! So you _are_ alive.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve left you like a ton of messages.”

“Oh. Yeah, sorry,“ Chris grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. He really should have given at least one member of his family a heads up that he was going out of town, and not ignored the growing number of voicemails on his phone. “I’m in New York. It was kind of a last minute thing.”

“Are you gonna be there long?”

“No, I’m flying back tomorrow.”

“Okay, well, Mom wants us over for dinner next weekend. Can I tell her you’ll be there?”

“Uh…” Chris tries to remember if he has anything scheduled, but nothing comes to mind so he goes with it. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then. And Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell Zach I said hi.”

The call ends before Chris can even form a reply, and he spends a good few seconds scowling at the screen, wondering how much she knows, or rather _thinks_ she knows.

“Everything okay?” Zach asks in a low voice as Chris slides back into his seat moments later.

“Yeah,” Chris says, flashing a smile. “Everything’s fine.” He expects Zach to nod and return to the conversation, but instead he leans in a little closer.

“Want to get out of here?”

“Yes,” Chris says, trying not to look too relieved. He obviously isn’t too successful because Zach gives him an amused look before turning back to make their excuses to everyone.

As soon as they’re out on the street, Chris feels more relaxed. But they’re still surrounded by people; there’s still distance between them, and Chris doesn’t want to wait until they’re back at Zach’s apartment to bridge it. Inspiration strikes as soon as they turn the next corner and he grabs Zach’s arm.

“Take me to a club.”

“A club? I thought you’d had enough socializing for one night.”

Chris only smiles. “Nope, no socializing. Just two people in a crowd, out to have a good time. What do you say?”

Zach looks at him for a moment and then nods, his eyes glinting in a way that sends a thrill down Chris’ spine. “I know just the place.”


	8. Chapter 8

The club is packed, a writhing mass of bodies in motion to a deafening beat, dark enough to provide anonymity for those seeking it. No one pays Chris and Zach any attention as they join the throng, letting the beat guide their bodies. They keep a little distance at first, but the overwhelming sense of freedom makes them bold, makes them press closer, encouraged by those around them who are openly giving in to their desire.

Having been forced to keep his hands to himself all evening, Zach’s grip on Chris’ waist is nothing short of possessive. Chris doesn’t seem to mind in the least, somehow simultaneously leaning into Zach’s touch and towards his body. He looks up, a gleam of teeth as he smiles, and Zach pulls him the rest of the way in, molding their bodies together as he tilts his head to kiss him. Chris’ lips part in a gasp and Zach licks inside, humming contentedly. Then Chris is pushing back, taking control, driving the pleasant thrum of arousal up several notches until Zach is the one gasping.

He glances around, but everyone around them is oblivious, too wrapped up in each other to notice or care. Chris takes advantage of his distraction to latch onto his neck, his hand sliding in-between them to grasp Zach through his pants. And fuck, Zach doesn’t care if people are watching or not. He yanks Chris’ head up and kisses him again, hard, hands sinking lower to splay across his ass and squeeze.

The knowledge that Chris is more than turned on by the presence of so many people has a similar effect on Zach. Growling, he grabs Chris’ hand and pulls him towards an even darker corner where other couples are already claiming each other. No faces are visible here, but the slick sound of skin against skin leaves little to the imagination.

Wasting no time, Zach crashes their lips back together and pulls at Chris’ fly. He can feel the heat of him already, which is only fueling his hunger. It takes him a moment to realize that Chris is doing the same, sighing as his cock is freed from the tight confines of his pants. Teeth clashing a little as they fumble together, they soon have a synchronized rhythm going, feeding off the push and pull of each other and the continuing sounds of pleasure around them. It’s hard and desperate and incredibly hot, with an edge of danger that’s exactly what Zach needs right now.

“Zach,” Chris pants against his mouth, his only warning before he feels Chris’ cock pulse under his fingers. It’s enough to trigger Zach’s climax, drawn out to its fullest by Chris’ deft grip. For a moment, it feels like Chris is the only thing that exists—his quick breaths, the hard heat of his body, the sure touch of his hands—and then the noise and the bustle of the club comes rushing back in.

“Fuck,” Zach murmurs, resting his forehead against Chris’.

“I’d love to, but that might have to wait till later.”

Zach swats him half-heartedly. He can practically feel Chris grinning at him, the grin that always reminds Zach of a pleased puppy. “You want to get out of here?” He can just make out Chris shaking his head.

“No, I want to dance.”

Zach hastily makes himself presentable before he’s tugged back towards the main area and the marginally higher light levels. There they melt into the heaving crowd and pull each other close again. Zach ceases to think, ceases to feel anything but the beat of the music and the hard heat of Chris’ undulating muscles under his hands. It’s gloriously liberating. The night is theirs and, until tomorrow, Chris is _his_.

They dance through five or six songs before the stifling heat has them craving refreshment. Offering to grab them both a drink from the bar while Chris goes to the restroom, Zach points him in the right direction, stealing another kiss before he goes. Unsurprisingly, the bar is packed and it takes a lot of maneuvering to get anywhere close enough for Zach to order. As soon as he’s there, he glances back towards the dance floor to see if Chris has returned yet. It takes him a moment to spot the blond hair, and when he does he sees that Chris isn’t alone—a bulky guy in a Yankees T-shirt has engaged him in conversation. Zach offers up a fervent prayer that he’s not a fan. That could make things difficult.

By the time Zach has the drinks in hand and is making his way over, bulky guy is still there and it’s apparent he’s not in any rush to leave. As Zach gets closer and overhears some of the conversation, it’s clear that this guy is a drunken suitor rather than a fan—he’s so drunk in fact that Zach doubts he’d recognize them in full Starfleet uniform—but his relief swiftly darkens to something more primal when the guy starts moving even closer, daring to lay his hands where Zach’s had been only minutes before.

“Hey!” Chris says, spotting Zach approaching.

He accepts his drink with a smile, and Zach is more than a little annoyed that he doesn’t seem to be concerned by the stranger’s behavior at all. He’s probably used to it, which doesn’t make Zach feel any better. His annoyance is spiked further by the refusal of their unwanted guest to accept defeat.

“Hey, dude, you want to back off?” 

The guy only laughs and leans closer to Chris, leaving little more than a few inches between them. “I’d rather get closer, if you know what I mean.”

Chris snorts, apparently more amused than annoyed. “Not happening, man.”

“Oh, come on, I can show you a real good time,” the guy presses, grabbing Chris’ waist again.

“Hey!” Anger flaring, Zach grabs hold of the guy’s arm and rips him away from Chris. “Back. The. Hell. Off.”

The guy immediately squares up to him, his breath reeking of liquor. “Or what?”

“Zach—“ Chris warns but Zach is already shoving the guy backwards, his drink flying with him and smashing on the floor. A small circle forms around them as people clear out of the way. The anger pulsing through Zach isn’t rational—he knows this guy isn’t any real threat—but he can’t deny how good it feels, like a release of sorts. He gives into it, curling his hand into a fist as the guy swings at him and misses by a hair’s breadth. 

Zach’s fist connects with his jaw, but it barely makes a dent, and the next second pain is exploding across his own cheek, nose, and mouth. He stumbles backwards and finds himself steadied by a strong hand on his right arm, and then he’s being pulled away, through the crowd towards the exit. Zach makes a half-hearted attempt to free himself from Chris’ grip, his anger now reduced to irritation.

“What are you doing?”

“Preventing you from ending up in a hospital bed and the morning news.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Zach says sourly as they burst out onto the quiet street, the cold air immediately chilling their sweat-soaked bodies.

Chris spares him an incredulous look as he keeps on walking down the street, away from the club and any chance of another altercation. “Seriously? Did you see the size of that guy?”

“Not the point,” Zach mutters, using the back of his hand to wipe blood from his nose.

“It’s a pretty fucking valid point, Zach.”

Once they’re around the next corner, Chris stops and pulls Zach to one side to check his injuries. Zach huffs in irritation, but his protest wilts at the soft concern in Chris’ gaze and the hand that gently cups his cheek.

“What’s the prognosis, doctor?”

“You’ll live.” Chris glances down and grimaces. “I can’t say the same about the shirt, though.”

“Casualty of war.”

“Uh-huh. Come on, let’s go back to your apartment and get you cleaned up properly. We can lay the shirt to rest at the same time, perhaps hold a short service…”

Zach snorts—and then wishes he hadn’t, because fuck that hurts—and follows Chris as he crosses the sidewalk and hails a cab.

***

“So what was that anyway?”

Zach blinks. “What?”

They’re in the main bathroom in his apartment. Zach is stripped to the waist and perched on the edge of the bathtub while Chris carefully cleans his face with a warm washcloth, the water in the basin turning increasingly murky. The blood looks worse somehow under the yellow artificial lighting. But the soft rhythmic strokes across his face are soothing, making him drift into a kind of waking sleep… until Chris’ voice had pulled him back to the present.

“Don’t play dumb, Zach. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Chris turns to wash the cloth and wring it out again before resuming his ministrations. “I thought you hated violence.”

Zach sighs, wincing as the movement aggravates his split lip. “I do… but that guy refused to back off and he was manhandling you—“

“I didn’t need you to save me,” Chris says softly, his eyes on the wound he’s gently cleaning. “I was handling it.”

Zach reaches up to still Chris’ hand, turning his head to place a soft kiss in the centre of his palm. “I know that,” he says, tone equally quiet but serious as he looks up to meet Chris’ gaze. “I know. But he was all over you and, honestly? I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t care what would happen. I just wanted him away from you. I wanted…” He sighs again, dropping his hand as he shakes his head.

“You wanted him to know that I’m yours,” Chris finishes knowingly. It makes Zach look up at him sharply, afraid he’s crossed some boundary, but Chris’ expression is soft and open. “I _am_ yours. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. I know.”

Chris tosses the cloth back into the basin, blowing out a breath. “But it’s not enough.”

Zach swallows thickly. “It should be.”

Chris sinks to his knees, warm hands cupping either side of Zach’s face—now clean but slightly pink from the repeated washing. “We’re in this together, Zach. What you want is just as important.” His hands drop to Zach’s, squeezing gently. “So tell me. What do you want?” 

“I guess…” Zach makes a sound in his throat, looking down, knowing the answer but unsure how to say it. When he finally looks back up, Chris is looking at him with such an open expression that the words come a little more easily. They’d promised honesty back when they started this—honesty no matter what. “I guess I want you off all of those eligible bachelor lists. I want the press to stop spreading dating rumors about every woman you’re photographed with. I want people to stop asking me when I’ll find the perfect man. But…” He looks down again, shaking his head. “If you’re not ready for that, it’s okay. I can—“

“No,” Chris interrupts firmly. “You can’t. This has been about me for too long.”

“Chris, I’m not going to be the asshole who forces you out. I won’t.”

“You’re not forcing anything. And it’s not like I’m still in the closet. Okay, I’m not completely out either, but that’s because I kind of got halfway out, told everyone important, and then stayed there. I got comfortable in the gray area in-between, and I told myself that it was nobody else’s business. But I _can’t_ stay there, Zach. I know that. And I want everything you want. If… if my career takes a hit, then so be it. I’d rather live a truthful life with you, than a successful lie.”

“Chris… you know this isn’t an either-or situation, right? You’ll have me in your life no matter what.”

“I know,” Chris says with a small lopsided smile. “And I love you even more for that.”

“I love _you_ ,” Zach says, closing the remaining distance to kiss him. “Enough talking for now,” he murmurs, taking Chris’ hands, shifting to stand up. “This is your last night, and I’m going to make every minute count.”


	9. Chapter 9

Chris spends most of the return flight sleeping. He feels a whole lot more relaxed than he did when he flew in, and is immensely happy that he made that decision—it had clearly been the right thing to do. Zach seemed a lot more like his old self when they parted, and also their relationship took several big steps forward. Of course, the fact that Zach kept him up—in more ways that one—for much of the previous night, might also have something to do with his ability to sleep through various announcements, the odd bout of turbulence, and the usual array of chatter and children’s cries.

As soon as he’s off the plane in LA, he dutifully pulls out his phone to text Zach.

_Landed safely. Will call tomorrow._

He pockets the phone again, not expecting a reply. It’s late in LA, which means it’s the early hours in New York. Zach’s most probably asleep. Nevertheless his phone chimes almost instantly, before his fingers have even finished uncurling from around the device. 

_Missing you already._

Chris smiles and quickly types out a response.

_Ditto. x_

Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he heads to baggage claim, trying to adopt a façade of calm and not keep grinning like an idiot, because there’s bound to be at least a few reporters laying in wait for anyone newsworthy. Tomorrow he’ll put out a feeler to his publicist; see if they can work out a strategy. She already knows the salient points of his sexuality and has probably guessed about his relationship with Zach, although he fully expects her to argue against coming out publicly. It’s her job, after all. There’s a good chance it’ll adversely affect his career, at least at first, and there’s sure to be a media storm. Chris is fully aware that it won’t be simple by any means, but right now he’s content to drift on his cloud of happy optimism and ignore potential complications. It feels like all the pieces of his life are finally falling into place.

***

His good mood lasts through the night and even through his fairly dull meeting the next morning, which, as it turns out, really wasn’t worth flying all the way back to LA for. But he’s done his duty, and when his phone beeps on his way out, he expects it to be his agent praising him for getting his ass back on time. Instead, he discovers it’s from his publicist; he hasn’t had a chance to contact her yet, so it comes as a surprise. There’s just one line of text and then a link.

_Please tell me you weren’t involved in this_

Frowning, Chris clicks the link, shielding the screen as someone walks by. It’s a video. He retreats to a corner of the foyer, well away from anyone else, before turning his attention back to the screen. The picture is grainy and unsteady, but the face in the center of the screen is unmistakable, as is the guy he’s squaring up to. The video starts just as Zach throws his punch, clocking the guy square in the jaw. A moment later, just as Chris knows it will, Zach’s head snaps back with the force of the return punch, blood spilling from his nose. He stumbles backwards, but just as the camera pans to where Chris knows he was standing, someone in front moves and blocks the view. The video ends abruptly.

A sick feeling in his gut, Chris scrolls down to the article titled _’Zachary Quinto Starts Fight In Gay Bar’_ and starts to read. Predictably, it’s full of misinformation and statements from so-called witnesses eager for their five minutes of fame. No one mentions that Chris was there—the only reason why he’s not getting an earful from his publicist right now—but it’s undoubtedly a PR disaster for Zach.

Chris closes the page and calls him, wondering why he had to hear about it from his publicist. Zach’s people are always on the ball; the chances of him not knowing about it yet are extremely slim. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it goes straight to voice-mail. Chris pinches his nose and waits patiently for his cue.

“Hey, it’s me. Give me a call when you get this, okay?”

Chris makes sure to have his phone to hand on the journey home, but it doesn’t ring. Conscious of the fact that Zach’s probably fielding all manner of calls, Chris waits another hour before trying again and makes sure his voice betrays none of his growing impatience. He makes a light lunch that he picks at rather than eats, his gaze constantly drifting to the frustratingly dark screen of his phone, and then sits in front of the TV for a while, flicking through channels until his restless fingers find their way back to his phone. Once again, his call goes straight to voice-mail. Time to pull out the big guns.

“If you don’t get back to me, you know I’m just going to fly back out there.”

He hangs up, knowing that Zach won’t be able to ignore that for fear that he’ll actually do it. And he will if he has to. Sure enough, his phone rings within a few minutes, Zach’s name flashing up on the screen. He quickly swipes the screen and lifts it to his ear.

“Hey.”

“You saw it then?”

Chris grimaces at Zach’s dull voice. It’s like they’re right back to where they were a week ago. “Yeah… you okay?”

There’s a crackle on the line as Zach’s emits a puff of bitter laughter. “Great. I have the press camped outside of my apartment, the threat of legal action looming over my head, and I’m pretty sure my publicist wants to throttle me or just quit altogether.”

“Legal action?” Chris repeats, sitting up straighter.

“Yeah, turns out the guy is looking to press charges—I’m guessing he decided that when he discovered who I was and it dawned that he could get a lot of money out of this. The cops have already had me in for questioning.”

“But he threw the first punch!”

“The video evidence says otherwise,” Zach replies, sounding horribly resigned. “And he’s saying that I knocked out two of his teeth…” He huffs. “I didn’t even hit him that hard, Chris.”

“I know you didn’t.” Chris runs a hand through his hair, wishing he was back in New York and cursing the lying money-grabbing asshole to hell. “We’ll sort this out. There has to be other evidence that can back you up on this, witnesses… well, me for one.”

“No,” Zach says instantly.

“What?”

“I’m not dragging you into this as well, Chris.”

“I’m already in it!” Chris protests. “I was there, remember?”

“But no one else has to know that.”

Chris scrubs a hand over his face, trying to keep his voice steady. “Zach, we’ve talked about this. I’m ready to tell the world the truth—“

“—Via a carefully considered tactical approach that limits any possible damage to your career, not by embroiling yourself in the mess that I got _myself_ into.”

“Ideally, yes, that would have been the plan, but if you think I’m going to let you take the fall for this—“

“Chris—“

“No! This is bullshit and I’m going to set them straight even if I have to stand up in court and testify against that jackass. This is what people in committed relationships do, Zach.”

There’s a heavy sigh on the other end. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

“Not have to, _want_ to. I was going to come out anyway; this just speeds up the process somewhat. I’ll see what my people have to say, talk to a lawyer… hopefully we’ll be able to throw this thing out before it ever reaches court.”

“It’s not your job to look after me, Chris.”

“No, it’s my privilege.”

There’s a long pause, and Chris is beginning to wonder if the line has gone dead when Zach says softly, his voice suspiciously croaky, “God, I wish you were here right now.”

Chris cradles the phone a little tighter, as if that’ll bring him closer to Zach. “Me too. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“And Zach?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He can hear the trace of a smile in Zach’s reply, the burgeoning hint of hope that everything’s going to be okay. “I love you, too.”

Chris ends the call and brings up his publicist’s number, taking a fortifying breath before tapping the screen. It’s going to be a long day.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. Again. :\

Chris is on the phone until well into the afternoon. The overly long conversation with his publicist doesn’t go particularly well, but since he has anticipated all the arguments that she comes up with and is thus able to counter each and every one, she eventually relents. She isn’t exactly happy when he ends the call, but she seems to understand at least, and Chris is confident that she’s going to continue to fight his corner; she tells him that she’ll prepare a press release for him to approve. Likewise, his lawyer advises him not to get involved unless he has to, but agrees to look into the case and provide assistance if needed.

His family proves to be the most supportive, which is completely unsurprising yet very welcome. Preferring to tell them in person, he only calls his parents’ house briefly to check that they’re not busy and to ask if he can come over and is quickly reassured on both counts; better still, Katie is there when he arrives, so he doesn’t have to go over everything twice. He’s able to sink back against the couch cushions and talk it all out without the need for justification or fear of judgment. They knew about Zach—of course they did—and despite obvious concerns, the same concerns already outlined by his publicist and lawyer, they seem happy to support whatever decision he makes. It goes a long way to ease the knot of tension in his stomach; so much so that he’s actually feeling fairly positive by the time he gets home that evening. 

That feeling quickly evaporates when he calls Zach.

“They’ve suggested I should take some time off from the show,” Zach says, bitterness souring his tone. Chris knows all too well that their ‘suggestion’ wouldn’t have been up for debate; so much for moral support. “I guess they don’t want the negative publicity, and my understudy can fill in easily enough. My defense attorney seems to think that, barring new evidence, they’ll officially charge me in the next few days… assault and battery.”

“It won’t come to that,” Chris says quickly. “My publicist has promised to have a statement ready by tomorrow and I already have my lawyer on the case. I should be able to fly out tomorrow afternoon.”

“You really don’t have to do this, Chris.”

“Yes, I do,” Chris says with absolute finality. “And you should try to get some sleep—it sounds like you need it.”

“I don’t think I could right now, especially without you here.”

“I _am_ here.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Where are you now?”

“On the couch.”

“Okay, go get into bed,” Chris tells him.

“Chris—“

“Go on,” Chris says firmly, getting up himself. “I will, too.”

“Isn’t it still early there?”

“Quit arguing, Quinto.”

“Fine,” Zach relents, and Chris can picture him pushing himself up from the couch with a huff of expelled breath. There’s the scuff of feet on floorboards, which Chris echoes as he heads to his bedroom, and then a soft thud accompanied by a small sigh. “Okay, I’m in bed. You’re still not any closer, though.”

Sliding into his own bed, one hand still wrapped around the phone, Chris replies with, “Close your eyes.”

“If you start singing Kumbayah, I swear to god—“

“Just do it.” Chris hears a huff but thankfully no further protest. “Now listen to my voice. Imagine I’m right there next to you. Forget everything else and just focus on me.”

“You know, if you _were_ here right now, sleep probably wouldn’t be the first thing on my mind.”

“Okay, go with that then.”

There’s a noticeable pause, then, “Are you actually suggesting phone sex?”

Chris shrugs even though he knows Zach can’t see him. An orgasm is as good a sleep aid as any. “Whatever you need.”

“I don’t know, dude…”

“Whatever you need,” Chris repeats. “I’m here.” When Zach still seems hesitant, Chris decides to take the initiative and see where it leads. “You know what I’d do if I _was_ there right now?”

“What?”

Is it Chris’ imagination or does Zach’s voice already sound a little breathless? He may well have inadvertently hit Zach’s kink jackpot. He grins and continues. “I’d walk right into your bedroom… take off my jacket and toss it aside…”

“You should hang it up or it’ll crinkle.”

“Killing the mood here, Zach.”

“Sorry.”

Chris valiantly attempts to recapture the moment. “I’d pull the covers away and slowly crawl up your body… drag my tongue up those long legs… your inner thigh… _all_ the way up…”

“Uh-huh…”

Oh yes, Zach definitely sounds breathless now. Gaining confidence, and a little turned on himself, Chris settles back into the pillows more comfortably and lets his own legs fall open, allowing more space.

“Now touch yourself,” he continues. “Imagine it’s my hand… my fingers gripping you… my tongue flicking over your head…”

There’s no mistaking Zach’s answering groan and it goes straight to Chris’ cock, prompting him to roughly push his underwear down to his thighs in order to take himself in his free hand.

“I’m swallowing that gorgeous cock of yours…” Chris closes his eyes to allow the fantasy to come to life, calling up some of his favorite memories to visualize. “Fuck, you taste so good. So good, Zach.”

“Please tell me you’re touching yourself, too,” Zach says, voice already ragged with pleasure.

“Hell yeah, I am,” Chris confirms, gripping a little more firmly and twisting his hand on the upstroke. “I’m so hard right now; you’re driving me crazy.”

“Chris,” Zach whines.

“I’ve got you, baby… let it all out… fill me up.” Hearing the hitch in Zach’s breathing, Chris speeds his hand up and everything starts to spiral. “Fuck yeah.”

“Are you—“

“Yeah,” Chris groans, squeezing his closed eyes more tightly so that he sees flashes of bright colors.

“Chris!”

The way Zach says his name, accompanied by his brain supplying the perfect image of Zach’s expression as he comes, has Chris shooting across his stomach and chest before he can say another word.

“Fuck,” he whispers, more to himself than to Zach, who’s still breathing heavily on the other end. Phone sex is definitely another thing to add to the list. He grabs a couple of Kleenex of the nightstand to wipe the mess away. “Zach?”

Zach answers in the form of a grunt.

“You think you can sleep now?”

“Yeah,” Zach says, almost a sigh. “Maybe. That was… hot.”

Chris smiles, glad that he read the situation right. “You’ll get the live-action version when I see you, okay?”

“Mmm.”

He can tell Zach’s drifting already, aided by all the happy hormones swirling around his brain. “Night, Zach.”

The last thing Chris hears is a mumbled, “Love you,” which he whispers back even though he knows Zach probably doesn’t hear it. He stays on the line for a while anyway, listening to Zach’s deepening breaths, and at some point falls asleep too.

***

As promised, when Chris checks his inbox the following morning over breakfast, there’s an email waiting from his publicist with the press release draft. Chris reads it over carefully several times, anxious to ensure that it covers everything he wants to say without delving too much into what should be and will continue to remain private. He sends it back with only a couple of revisions and then calls his lawyer.

“I’ll be honest with you, Chris, it doesn’t look good,” Tim says with his customary brusqueness. “Apparently no one saw the victim throw the first punch, and the video doesn’t provide any helpful evidence in that regard. If you saw something different, then you’re going to have to provide a witness statement to that effect, which means going back to New York. But I have to say, even if you do that, there’s no guarantee they’ll drop the charges.” He pauses a half-beat, and Chris can tell what’s coming even before he continues. “Chris, right now there’s nothing tying you to this case—“

“Nothing except Zach’s reputation and the truth.”

“The truth is only what is accepted in court as fact,” Tim counters. “Regardless, I’m duty-bound to advise you to keep out of it.”

“I know,” Chris replies, wearily rubbing a hand across his face. “I understand that. But I’m not going to stand by and let Zach take the fall for something he didn’t do. I can’t.”

“Okay then,” Tim says promptly, and Chris feels a wave of relief. He really didn’t want to waste more time defending his position on this. “In that case, I’m coming with you. I’ll call ahead to make the arrangements.”

When Chris ends the call, he’s already checking out a list of flights back to New York.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally ready to post this chapter. I know it's been quite a wait - apologies for that. Huge thanks to Semperama for continuing to beta this story for me, and for her unfailing support in general. <333

By early afternoon, Chris is once again flying towards the opposite coast. The journey seems to go quicker this time though, reflecting his racing mind as it attempts to plan for every possible eventuality. He’s confident that his publicist has things handled, his press release ready to go the moment he gives the word, and Tim seems to be confident enough on the legal issues despite his apparent reservations about Chris coming forward. That just leaves Zach and him and everything in-between… a world of possible ways that this entire situation could still go horribly wrong.

Once he’s off the plane, Chris puts his hood back up and keeps his cap pulled down to minimize the risk of being recognized on his way through the airport. He doesn’t have to wait for baggage claim at least, having only brought a carry-on with a few necessary supplies. Instead he heads straight through the terminal to the exit. It’s only been a few days since he walked this route, when he’d hopped straight into a cab to go surprise Zach after his show. This time his stomach is in knots for an entirely different reason. 

There’s a message from Tim when he turns on his phone, directing Chris to the NYPD 6th Precinct at 233 W 10th Street where he’s waiting, having grabbed an earlier flight. Spotting an empty cab, Chris grabs it and passes on the address. He’s already told Zach to stay put at his apartment—there’s no need for him to run the gauntlet of press camped at his door. Chris promised he’d go straight there after. For now, he sits back in his seat and lets the sights and sounds of New York wash over him anew.

***

Thirty minutes into the interview, Chris is beginning to wish he’d stopped for coffee first. Decent coffee, that is, not the brown dishwater he made the mistake of accepting from good cop. It hadn’t taken long for Chris to distinguish which of the two officers is which—good cop is asking questions with a professional but friendly tone, while bad cop leans back in his chair, arms crossed, and makes clearly cynical noises at the answers. They’ve been over the specifics several times and yet Chris is still sitting there, attempting to hold onto his patience and his sanity. He’s not sure how much longer he can do both.

“So this guy in the club wasn’t really bothering you then?” Good cop asks.

“No, he _was_ bothering me, but I was handling it.”

“Then why did Mr Quinto feel the need to step in?”

“He was just… he was being protective.”

“And this guy made him angry.”

“More annoyed than angry.”

“Annoyed enough to punch him?”

“No!” Chris sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, like I said, all Zach did was tell him to get lost, but the guy was drunk off his ass and took it as a challenge. _He_ threw the first punch. Zach was only defending himself.”

“Not according to the other eye-witnesses.”

“Then you’re talking to the wrong people.”

“Or you’re trying to help out a friend who’s in trouble,” bad cop cuts in.

“Yes, I’m trying to help him out by telling you what actually happened!” Chris pauses, deciding to lay all of his cards on the table. They’d know soon enough anyway. “I was there. _With_ Zach.” His tone makes his meaning perfectly clear. “Check the security tapes.”

Surprise breaks through good cop’s friendly facade, but he recovers quickly. “We intend to.” 

Thankfully Tim, who has sat quietly beside Chris other than to intercede on a couple of points, steps in. “Okay, I think my client has been questioned long enough. You have all the relevant information. Unless you have anything new to add, I suggest you allow my client to read and sign his statement and we’ll be on our way.”

The officers share a look before good cop dutifully hands over the statement for Chris to sign. 

“We’ll be in touch,” good cop says as they exit the interview room a few minutes later.

“Can’t wait,” Chris mutters, donning his cap. When the desk sergeant then asks for an autograph for his son on the way out, Chris can’t help but give him an incredulous look, but grudgingly provides one; just another piece of craziness to add to the pile.

***

“Chris, have you spoken to Zach since the story broke?”

“Do you know what happened, Chris?”

“Has Zach had problems with his anger in the past? Has he hit anyone else?”

“Chris!”

Pushing his way through the throng outside Zach’s apartment building, Chris refuses to give them so much as a flicker of emotion in response. He’ll play ball with the press when he has to promote a movie, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to give this pack of vultures the slightest scrap to feast on. Just as he’s beginning to think he’ll be stuck outside with them while he waits to be let in, the door swings open and Chris ducks inside. The doorman is a different guy to the one he usually sees—younger, and with considerably more hair.

“Thank you…” Chris gives the guy a questioning look, silently asking him to fill in the blank.

“Kevin. And no problem, sir,” he adds with a smile. “Mr Quinto told me to expect you.”

“He did?”

“Yes, sir. He’s been kind of impatient for your arrival.”

Chris pictures Zach pacing his apartment and calling down every twenty minutes. From the clear relief he can see on Kevin’s face, he has a feeling that it isn’t all that far from the truth.

“I’d better not keep him waiting any longer then,” Chris smiles before heading to the elevator with a, “Thanks, man.”

Despite the thrill of excitement that always comes with seeing Zach no matter how long they’ve been apart, Chris pauses once he steps out of the elevator to pull his phone from his pocket. He scrolls briefly through his contact and then presses the call button, breathing out a long slow breath while waiting for the call to connect. 

“Hey. Yeah, go ahead and release the statement.”

***

There’s only a couple of seconds between Chris’ knock and the door opening, lending weight to the notion that Zach was already up and pacing.

“Chris,” Zach breathes, instantly moving forwards to envelope him in a tight hug. Chris presses close with a soft, “Hey.”

They should probably move inside—the hallway isn’t the best place for them to be right now—but Chris is going to let Zach hold on for as long as he wants to.

“Sorry,” Zach says eventually, pulling back and running a hand through his unkempt hair. It looks like he’s been doing that a lot. “I’m kind of a mess right now.” 

Chris can see that; apart from his uncharacteristically messy hair, Zach’s unshaven, and judging by the state of his sweatpants and tee, he hasn’t changed or showered in quite a while. “Well that’s understandable, given the circumstances,” he offers with a sympathetic smile.

Zach gives a kind of half shrug and steps back, letting Chris into the apartment where the dogs are instantly at his side, tails wagging furiously as they demand attention. “So what did the cops say?”

“Not much,” Chris says between dog kisses, crouching to say hello properly, “but they should look into it further at least.” He laughs as Skunk jumps up to lick his nose. “Yes, I missed you too.” When he looks up, Zach’s expression seems to be caught somewhere between amusement and guilt.

“I’m sorry about making you come all of this way. Again.”

Chris sighs and straightens, brushing dog hair from his legs. “You didn’t _make_ me, Zach. You were the one trying to talk me out of it, remember?”

“Yeah, but if I hadn’t been such an idiot at the club, you wouldn’t have had to.”

Chris shrugs. “Hey, if nothing else, it’ll up my frequent flier miles.”

“Chris—“

“Too soon for jokes?” Chris sobers when Zach’s expression remains somewhat pained. “Look, I _wanted_ to do this; not just for you, but for _both_ of us. I want to be able to protect you from the assholes of the world, to love and comfort you through the bad times and share the joy of the good, and I know if the situation was reversed, you’d be the first one to show up at my door in shining armor. This isn’t an inconvenience, Zach. This is me saying I love you and I’m here for you. Always.” He pauses, a blush coloring his cheeks as he smiles self-consciously. “Jesus, that sounded like it was straight out of a Hallmark card—“ 

But he doesn’t get to finish as Zach scoops him into a hug so tight it almost presses all the air out of his lungs and proceeds to kiss him senseless.

“It sounded perfect,” Zach says the moment their lips part enough for words. “You’re perfect. And I love you, too. So much. All of this,” he vaguely waves towards the press camped outside, “it doesn’t matter.”

Chris looks skeptical. “It matters, Zach.”

“It could affect my career, sure, but that’s not the most important thing in my life. Trust me, I’ve had a lot of time to think about my priorities over the past couple of days.”

“And?”

“And when it comes to that particular list, you’re at the top. So they can take this part away from me for the remainder of the run if they want; it just means I’ll be able to move back to LA sooner.”

“Are you sure?”

Zach actually offers a small smile as he nods. “I’m sure.”

Chris smiles into another kiss, then slides his hand down Zach’s arm to link their fingers. “Come on,” he says, gently tugging. “I need a shower. And so do you.”

***

Chris’ weariness starts to ease the minute he steps under the hot spray, washing the day away. He takes it upon himself to get both of them clean, but spends far more time on the curves and planes of Zach’s body than his own, enjoying the play of muscles beneath his fingertips. Zach even allows him to wash his hair, his eyes falling closed as the pads of Chris’ fingers softly massage his scalp, and it once again occurs to Chris how privileged he is to see this side of him; no acting, no bullshit, just Zach, stripped back to his core and laid bare. He can’t resist leaning in to steal a kiss, smiling when Zach’s eyes snap open. Momentary surprise melts into warmth and a spark of something deeper as Zach catches his retreating lips.

Zach’s touch recharges Chris in a way nothing else can, banishing all of the worries and doubts that have plagued him all day. This, more than anything else in the world, feels right. It’s where he’s meant to be.

Chris’ back hits the wall as Zach advances, the cold tiles a stark contrast to the heat between their bodies. Zach’s hand drops from Chris’ cheek to land on his chest, fingers splayed as it continues its journey downwards. Chris breaks the kiss with a gasp as he’s taken firmly in hand, his head thudding back against the tiles. Zach takes the opportunity to attack his neck instead, laying open-mouthed kisses with just the barest scrape of teeth, making Chris shiver.

“Imagine if those paps could see us now,” Zach murmurs, a hint of playfulness suffusing in his tone.

Chris groans and presses closer, squeezing his eyes shut. He imagines the horde of paps crowded against the frosted glass, tantalizingly close but with their view obscured. Grabbing the back of Zach’s head, Chris forces it back up and attacks his lips. Zach, in turn, ups the tempo, swift sure strokes rapidly destroying Chris’ self-control. All he has to do is imagine one of those paps reaching for the door and it’s all over. He pants into Zach’s mouth, pulsing hot stripes across his hand and abdomen, suddenly thankful that the wall is right behind him to lend much-needed support for his shaky legs.

All he can say is a soft but fervent, “Fuck,” before sliding down the wall to take Zach in his mouth. Well, he _did_ promise a live-action version of that phone call. Granted this isn’t exactly the same, but it will do for a start.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the terribly long wait - life got in the way. But, rest assured, I'm still writing this. Many thanks to semperama for her beta skills. <3

When Chris wakes, feeling rested and pleasantly sore in places, it takes him several moments to realize that Zach’s not next to him. Frowning, he lifts his head and looks around to see that he’s alone in the bedroom. There is, however, the sound of movement somewhere beyond. When the door is pushed open, Chris fully expects Zach to appear with coffee in hand, maybe even breakfast, but there seems to be no one there. The mystery is solved within seconds as a wet nose finds the foot hanging off the bed.

“Jesus!” Chris quickly withdraws the limb to the relative safety of the sheets and sits up. “Good morning to you too,” he says, cupping both hands around Noah’s head to give his ears a rub while trying to avoid the excited licking. “Where’s Daddy, huh?”

He swings his legs out of bed and grabs a fresh pair of boxers and the first shirt to hand, worry darkening his thoughts. Surely nothing else has happened. It doesn’t take long to find Zach, who’s sitting on the couch in front of his computer, but the intensity of his face stills Chris’ feet. Zach seems to hear him anyway and looks up, but his expression is impossible to gauge.

“You released a statement?”

Just like that, realization dawns. Chris had been so caught up in seeing Zach and taking his mind of everything, that it had gone clean out of his head. Fuck. “Oh… yeah…” He winces, rubbing the back of his head. “I was going to tell you, but you had so much going on, I didn’t want to add to it with my shit, and then—”

Zach’s off the couch in one swift movement, closing the gap in three strides to take hold of Chris’ upper arms. “Hey, I’m not mad! I…” He breaks off, shaking his head helplessly. “I think it’s amazing.”

“You do?” Chris asks, his brain trying its best to catch up.

Breaking into a smile, Zach kisses him. “I really do.”

“Oh. Good. Yeah, that’s…” Chris takes a breath, allowing himself to process his relief that Zach isn’t pissed. His relief is once again clouded by anxiety as soon he thinks about the rest of the world. “What about everyone else?”

Zach squeezes his arm before returning to the computer screen. “Well, at the moment, it looks like a fairly even split between those who don’t understand why this kind of thing even makes the news, those who apparently knew all along, and those that are just glad you haven’t sworn off women completely.”

Chris has to snort at that. “I think you may put a sizable dent in that percentage when we go public.”

“A fair few people are already calling it,” Zach says, continuing to scroll down the page as Chris sits next to him, “especially with photos of you visiting me.” 

Pilfering some of Zach’s coffee, Chris hums. “We’re going to make a whole bunch of—what do they call it? Pinto?—shippers incredibly happy.”

Zach huffs a laugh before looking up at Chris, his expression sobering. “As long as _you’re_ happy.”

“I am,” Chris says, leaning in to kiss him, realizing as he does so just how much of a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Sure, it’s only day one, and there are bound to be a whole range of issues waiting to trip him up, but that’s for future Chris to deal with. Present Chris is content to sit here with Zach and savor the moment and the feeling of finally being free to love him without any limitations.

 

They’re still ensconced on the couch after breakfast when the door buzzer sounds. Zach reluctantly untangles himself from Chris to get up.

“That’ll be Steve. He said he’d come over this morning to discuss the case against me.”

“Should I…?” Chris hooks his thumb towards the bedroom in lieu of finishing the sentence. He doesn’t want to be in the way.

“Don’t be a dork,” Zach says with a touch of affectionate exasperation. “This affects you as much as me. Besides, I want you here with me.”

Chris hides a pleased smile as Zach turns away from him to pick up the receiver by the door. It falters at Zach’s brief conversation with the doorman.

“Yeah. Okay, send them up.”

_Them?_

Visions of a horde of cops coming to take Zach away intrude upon Chris’ thoughts, but Zach is quick to banish them.

“Looks like both of our lawyers are paying a visit.”

Chris frowns but goes with it. It’s not surprising that Tim knows exactly where he is—the whole world knows—and two legal minds are better than one. He just hopes they’re bringing good news. He’s now also wishing that he was a little more appropriately dressed, but at least Zach’s in the same bed-ruffled state.

In contrast to Tim’s slender frame, Zach’s lawyer is a burly man with a perpetually grim expression. “Zach,” he nods upon entering the apartment. “Mr. Pine,” he adds politely.

Chris stands, reaching out for a firm handshake. “Please, call me Chris.” He hears Zach having the same conversation with Tim by the door. 

Ever the dutiful host, Zach goes to make a fresh pot of coffee while the dogs introduce themselves to his guests. Noah seems particularly taken with Tim, settling by his feet, while Skunk does a circuit and then wanders off to the kitchen to find his master.

Chris tries his best to make small talk, but he’s glad when Zach returns soon after to place the coffees on the table. “So,” Zach begins, settling back down beside Chris. “Any good news?”

Looking happy to cut to the chase, Steve leans forward to grab his cup. “Nothing concrete. It does look promising, though—a lot more promising now we have your statement on record,” he adds, looking to Chris.

Chris shrugs it off. “I wish there was more I could do.”

“It might just be enough. They’ll be looking to corroborate what you’ve told them, and while they do that we have some leads to follow up of our own.”

“Oh?” Chris looks from Steve to Tim.

“We can’t go into detail yet,” Tim says, absently scratching Noah’s ear. Noah cocks his head appreciatively. “But they could potentially turn the whole case around.”

“We should have a better idea of the state of things in a couple of days,” Steve continues. “If you need to get back to LA, I can—“

Chris is already shaking his head; the police have already informed him that he’s free to leave if he chooses to, but he has no intention of doing so. “No, I’m staying.”

“Chris, you don’t have to,” Zach interjects.

Glancing his way, Chris raises a challenging eyebrow. “There you go, using that word again.”

“Okay, bad choice of vocabulary,” Zach concedes, the hint of a smile playing around his mouth as he reaches across to lace their fingers together. “What I mean is I’m fine.”

Chris shrugs his shoulders, undeterred. “Well, fine or not, I’m staying until this is settled. I mean, unless you’d rather I—”

“ _Now_ who’s being an idiot?”

The fond exasperation is back and Chris can’t contain his smile as they hold each other’s gaze. When Steve clears his throat rather pointedly to regain their attention, they’re quick to pick up the threads of the conversation, but their fingers remain intertwined for the remainder of the meeting. 

 

After closing the door behind their guests a little while later, Zach presses Chris against it and meets his mouth in a scorching kiss. Chris can tell that Zach’s been waiting for the opportunity and, truth be told, so has he. They’re both riding high from the positivity of the meeting combined with the elation of being more than halfway out of the relationship closet. 

When Chris feels Zach’s fingers slip beneath the waistband of his boxers, the touch turns his spark of arousal into a fire that rushes through his body and demands more—more than the quick gratification of a fumbled hand-job. With that in mind, Chris pushes off from the door and nudges Zach back towards the bedroom. It’s not like either of them have anywhere else to be, which is rare enough to warrant one of the slow and thorough fucks that leaves Chris on an entirely different plane of existence.

They roll and tussle as clothes are discarded, mouths never parting except when the removal of shirts necessitates it, beginning a playful fight for dominance as soon as the last items hit the floor. It reminds Chris a little of their first time, when they’d decided that friendship didn’t cut it anymore, except now Zach knows every inch of his body by heart; every ticklish point that’ll make him squirm and every single point that’ll draw out breathless moans.

Zach wins the fight, or rather Chris lets him. He wants Zach to take the lead, take him apart bit by bit before piecing him back together again, and Zach doesn’t disappoint. In his skilled hands, Chris loses all track of time. He becomes a slave to sensation, to the heat of Zach’s mouth, the quick breaths fanning his skin, the slow drag of searching fingers.

When Zach finally, _finally_ thrusts home, Chris feels as though he’s on a tightrope. He’s so close to falling, and he will fall—he’s already wobbling—but Zach will be right there to catch him. Reaching up to bring Zach’s mouth to his, he closes his eyes and lets go.

Lying sprawled across Zach’s chest in the aftermath, Zach’s fingers skimming idly across his back in meaningless patterns, Chris savors the feeling of blissful contentment that radiates from every part of his sated body. It’s been an unexpectedly good morning; so good, in fact, that he can almost dare to believe that everything’s going to be all right. He can only hope it’s true.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, the final chapter of this story - apologies for the long wait! Thanks to everyone who has stuck with it and left such lovely comments along the way, and my special thanks to semperama for her beta skills and constant support reassurance. I wouldn't have made it to the finish line without you. <333

Chris takes a sip of coffee and turns the page of his magazine, pointedly ignoring the numerous cameras that he knows are trained on him from various angles. He’s been sitting there for over twenty minutes already and there are only so many shots they can take of him doing exactly the same thing. His phone sits on the table beside him and he can’t help glancing at the dark screen every so often as he reads. He resists the temptation to check it again and returns to the article he’s perusing—a piece on interior design that has some pretty interesting ideas. He’d like to try some of them out, but he should probably gauge Zach’s opinion first since they’re going to be living together. The thought causes a fresh flutter of anticipation in his belly and he reaches for the phone before he can stop himself. While there are no new messages, the clock on the screen shows that Zach’s flight will be landing within minutes. The wait is almost over.

It’s been a little under a month since they were together in New York, and although they’ve spent much longer apart in the past, this separation has felt like a lifetime—probably because they’ve both had to deal with so much more than usual, and all under the uncomfortably close lens of a vastly increased media presence.

From the moment he walked the short distance from Zach’s New York apartment building to the car waiting to take him to the airport, after three blissful days spent hidden away from the outside world, Chris’ every move has been watched and documented. Zach had offered to accompany him to the airport, but that would have created even more of a media frenzy and, in light of developments concerning Zach’s case—developments that warranted a press statement of his own—Chris thought it best to remove himself from the equation and let the dust settle. 

That aspect, at least, is now fully resolved. Their legal teams managed to dig up a couple more witnesses, whose statements corroborated Chris’ account of events, plus new video footage from a different angle. That, together with the revelation of multiple priors the guy had for assault, caused the case against Zach to fall apart and the guy to crawl back under whatever rock he’d emerged from.

Even though they had been fairly confident of the outcome after that promising meeting, the relief was immense. Chris can still picture the exact moment Zach heard the news, when the last vestiges of worry were lifted from his shoulders, his face positively lighting up. They’d celebrated into the early hours, making sure to fully savor the victory before the next hurdle was attempted. That hurdle, they’d decided, could wait a while. Chris had to return to LA to face the music and Zach needed to resolve the issue of the play.

Chris wasn’t surprised when, the next day, Zach told him he was honoring his obligation to the play and seeing his run through to the end. With only a few weeks left of his contract, and a very capable understudy, he could easily have walked away—the theater had made it clear that it was his choice—but Zach felt that it was his duty to stay, not for the theater executives, who’d shown such little faith in him, but for the many fans who had purchased tickets to see him. Plus it was important for him to return to the stage with his head held high, fully vindicated, and by all accounts his first night back was met by thunderous applause.

Chris’ reception in LA wasn’t quite so warm. Not only did he have to deal with a media mob upon his arrival, he also had to face the studio executives for Paramount. Frankly, given the choice, he’d probably rather have taken the mob. Incensed that they’d been given no warning prior to the release of the statement, the executives spent the best part of an hour engaged in a tense back and forth with Chris and his representatives. The saving grace of the situation, and possibly Chris’ future career, seemed to be the overwhelmingly positive reaction from the fans. It certainly went some way to soothe things over and convince the studio that their lead actor was still a very bankable star. When the conversation inevitably turned to Zach, Chris made it clear that their relationship was not up for discussion and, since they were at an impasse, the meeting ended.

Chris had wanted to fly right back to New York there and then, to the comfort and security of Zach’s arms, but instead he had to content himself with the familiar timbre of Zach’s voice on the end of the phone, words of love, support, and reassurance soothing the tension away until Chris fell asleep, the phone still pressed to his ear.

Realizing he’s been staring blankly at his phone for the best part of five minutes as his mind wandered, Chris places it back on the table and returns to the article. He barely takes in another word, though. Thinking back over the past month has brought his feelings into sharper focus—the stress, the tension, and most of all the constant ache of missing Zach. He can barely stand to wait the few remaining minutes.

Chris jumps a fraction as his phone buzzes. He immediately grabs it and reads the short message, a smile blooming.

_Landed safely. See you soon. Can’t wait. x_

He quickly texts back and lays his phone down, his gaze automatically sliding up towards the arrivals area. The butterflies in his stomach have become more frantic, matching the faster beat of his heart. He knows he should return to his magazine and play it cool, but he can’t tear his gaze away from where Zach will surely appear at any moment.

A watched pot never boils, his mom always used to say, and Chris feels the full meaning of that phrase as the seconds and minutes tick by more slowly than ever before. It’s the buzz of activity that draws his attention first, well before Zach comes into view. There’s a small but dedicated group of press representatives, as well as a few eager fans, who are being expertly handled by members of Zach’s entourage. Zach looks unfazed by the attention as always. Chris allows himself a moment to drink in the sight of him and then, taking a deep breath, he gets to his feet.

Zach doesn’t spot him until he’s a few meters away—about the same time that both his and Chris’ press mobs cotton on, judging by the suddenly manic click and flash of a dozen cameras—and his smile instantly chases away Chris’ nerves. He barely hears Zach’s greeting, going straight in for a tight hug, pressing his face snug against Zach’s neck.

“You okay?” Zach’s voice sounds a little concerned now, his arms wrapping securely around Chris’ waist.

“Yeah,” Chris says softly. “Just missed you.”

“I think you may have broken the paps,” Zach replies with a soft snort.

Chris can sense the furor around them, but it’s like a distant storm, far away from where the two of them stand. Lifting his head, Chris smiles. “Let’s see if we can break them some more.” He sees Zach’s realization of his intentions a second before their lips meet, a smile assuring his approval, while cameras flash around them like fireworks. The thrill of it takes Chris unawares, a simple kiss out in the open proving more potent than any of their hidden assignations, the joy of finally being able to say to the world, _this man is mine_.

Chris pulls back before things can get too heated—there is, after all, a limit to public displays—but Zach looks suitably ravished and just a little dazed, making Chris grin victoriously while also resolving to get somewhere private at soon as possible to continue where they left off.

“So… ready to go home?”

“More than ready.”

Drawing back just enough to join hands, fingers naturally entwining, they start walking towards the exit, cheerfully ignoring the desperate shouts and questions that accompany their every step. Golden sunshine awaits.

 

** Epilogue **

Everything’s quiet apart from the deep hum of the plane’s engines; most of the passengers are either asleep or quietly enjoying the in-flight movie. Zach lifts a hand to turn the page of his book, returning it swiftly to resume gently massaging Chris’ thigh. Chris’ head is pillowed on his shoulder, hair tickling his cheek, breaths deep and even in sleep. It’s not the most comfortable position, especially since Chris’ headphones are digging into his shoulder, tinny dialogue from the ongoing movie still audible, but Zach doesn’t want to move—mainly because that would wake Chris, and Zach knows he needs the sleep, but also because he’s savoring the freedom of finally being able to be this way in public without having to worry about any kind of self-censorship. He even puts up with Zoe’s blatant ‘aren’t you two just the sweetest!’ looks from across the aisle before she too falls asleep.

They’re currently somewhere above the Pacific, speeding towards the next stop in yet another Trek press tour. In the seat next to Zoe is John, who’s been softly snoring for the past hour. And in front of them are Karl and Simon; Zach can’t see their faces from his position, but he assumes that they’re watching the movie. They both have headphones on anyway.

Zach’s another ten pages on in his book when he becomes aware of a change in Chris’ breathing—more specifically how it’s noticeably quickened, expelled now through slightly open lips. That’s when he realizes that the placement of his hand, after the latest page-turn, was somewhat off target, and the soft flesh he’s been gently massaging has hardened significantly. But before he can even attempt to move his hand to a safer position, Chris groans softly and shifts to press his face into Zach’s neck.

“Don’t stop…”

Now in something of a quandary, wanting to continue but only too aware of the flight attendants regularly patrolling the aisles, Zach swiftly tugs the blanket up higher over Chris and sneaks his hand underneath.

Chris hums. “We haven’t done this in a while.”

It’s true, they haven’t. Everything has been about their newly public relationship and the freedom that came with it. Hiding hasn’t been on their minds at all.

“Actually, there’s one thing we’ve never done…” Chris sounds wide awake now and when he lifts his head to look at Zach properly, his blue eyes are sparkling with mischief. 

And of course Zach knows where he’s going with this—how could he not? It’s not something they could have risked before, especially surrounded by the Trek entourage; word would have gotten out. But now…

“Want to tick it off the list?”

Zach can’t help but picture it, and the resultant rush of arousal must show in his expression because Chris grins and grabs his hand. Together they quietly make their way towards the nearest restroom, fortunately only a few rows away, and, with one last glance around, quickly duck inside.

In the darkness of the cabin, Karl grudgingly pulls a wad of cash from his wallet and hands it over to a smirking Simon.


End file.
